Home Life

Home life
is the quickest approach to kill a poet’s insanity 
and the quickest approach to kill the poet.

I learn Claudia my poem about Roberto Bolaño. 
Claudia seems at me and after a beat
she asks, “Hungry? The salmon fillets
are nonetheless within the fridge.”
From the deserts of loss of life
the place he lives now, Bolaño winks his eye at me and says, 
“I didn’t know you preferred
salmon fillets, Mauricio.”
Claudia has gone out, however she’ll quickly be again,
like Christ when he obtained bored.
In the meantime I attempt to perceive
what’s the matter with the salmon
and whether or not or not I ought to write this poem.
“Cease spilling milk everywhere in the kitchen!” she shouts.
I search for Bolaño, however this time his visage
has evaporated amongst my books
and the meals caught to the soiled plates.
Perhaps we’re all already useless
just like the immobile fish dragged downstream.

Indian Territory

A century in the past
the state of Oklahoma didn’t exist. 
This piece of the world
was merely
referred to as Indian land,
a pink land
with little lakes all over the place.

This morning
after I exit to get the mail
I stumble upon the mailman.
I’ve seen him many occasions
on the entrance to my constructing.
However now, for the primary time,
we discuss.
He comes as much as me
with an authorized letter from Chile.
He explains one thing about how these letters work 
after which tells me his title.
He’s Leo Tippeconnie.
He’s a Navajo Indian
and he should be about 60.
His darkish, distant face
jogs my memory of one thing I’ve seen earlier than.
He tells me he’s spent 25 years
working as an Oklahoma mailman.
He asks me the place I’m from.
“Chile,” I reply.
He seems at me with curiosity.
“What’s Chile?” he asks.
“A rustic in South America.”
“And the place is that this nation?”
“Distant, 5 thousand miles from right here.” 
He furrows his forehead, I suppose Chile
is a tough nation to think about.
“Get chilly there?”
“Solely within the winter.”
“I’m from Oklahoma. It will get chilly right here, generally.” 
“You’re telling me,” I reply.
“Properly,” he says, “signal right here.”
I obey and signal.
Earlier than he leaves, he provides:
“We’re nonetheless at warfare
with the white man.”
He says this smiling.
“I’m not white,” I reply.
“I do know,” he tells me.
“We’re not at warfare with you.”
He smiles and I smile.
We’re two males who smile
once they speak about warfare.
“Is that each one?”
“Sure.”
“Chile?”
“Precisely, Chile.”
“Good,” he exclaims, glad.
He holds out his hand
and we are saying goodbye.
The solar at noon shines
on the pink lands of Oklahoma
and the little lakes
of this a part of the world
—like keen fountainheads—
move the sunshine again as much as the sky.
Leo Tippeconnie
slowly
strikes away
within the mail truck.
As soon as he hits Freeway 9
I lose sight of him.
He’s going south,
in all probability heading to Chile, 
5 thousand miles away,
in his little white truck
with blue letters on the facet.

Chávez and Chilean Poetry

In 2004
I used to be a scholar residing in Cincinnati.
It was just a little shameful
for my age and my CV.
That 12 months
the poet Antonio Gutiérrez
got here to my college.
He was Venezuelan
and I, Chilean.
So it was solely proper
that we must always speak about Chávez and Chilean poetry. 
Within the morning on the best way to the language division 
Chávez and Chilean poetry.
At lunchtime, Chávez and Chilean poetry.
At evening, nothing
(we weren’t that loopy).
Someday we took the automobile to Washington.
A 16-hour drive there
and 16 extra hours again.
One other 12 months we went to New York
to see an exhibit on Reverón, the painter,
one other 16 hours there and the identical again once more.
By that time
I used to be an professional on Venezuela
and Antonio taught courses on Chilean poetry.
However the final time we didn’t go
to Washington or to New York,
we simply crossed the Ohio River
over that bridge
to which Huidobro devoted a poem.
We didn’t speak about Chávez or Chilean poetry,
this time we stored quiet.
Kentucky surfaced slowly,
as if dredged up from some swampy dream, 
Chávez appeared as useless as Chilean poetry 
and the firmament parted in two
like an amazing yellow chicken
breaking off from the sky
with out making a sound.

4 to eight Weeks

I used to be going towards Oklahoma Metropolis 
driving up I-35.
I used to be going nowhere, actually.
It was a boring Saturday afternoon 
and I simply needed to get out within the automobile, 
to drive for a couple of hours then come again. 
The entire world is aware of
there’s nothing to see in OKC,
“it’s only a assortment of homes.”
However that’s the place I used to be going, up I-35, 
the identical highway that results in Minneapolis 
rambling and in a superb temper,
wishing myself one of the best.

I used to be going 70 miles per hour 
listening to an area radio station 
when all of a sudden they appeared 
(on the radio, I imply)—
a non secular present about investing cash.
There was a lady and two males.
She needed to speculate $150,000.
The lads launched themselves as Christian Monetary Advisors. 
She stated, “I have to know learn how to make investments my cash.”
They advised her to remain calm and pray.
The lady stated, “Okay, I’ll keep calm and I’ll pray.”
They went on that she wanted to wish a complete lot and be trustworthy. 
She stated she would pray a complete lot and be trustworthy.
“He’ll inform you what to do with that cash,” they claimed.
“However $150,000 is a giant quantity,” she responded.
“That’ll take some time, 4 to eight weeks.”
Don’t despair, such timing is regular in these circumstances.
There are such a lot of wretched individuals on this nation,
cancerous, poor, suicidal, alcoholic,
moreover the madmen and girls of the plains 
all the time begging for extravagant, egocentric wishes. 
“God can’t sustain in America,” they defined. 
The lady stated, “I’ll be affected person, I gained’t be egocentric.”
Then they requested if she wanted the rest.
She answered, “No.” And thanked them for asking. 
Then a military veteran referred to as in,
however I couldn’t make out what he was saying,
the sign was slicing out and in
till it was lastly misplaced.

Once I obtained to Oklahoma Metropolis I slowed down.
“I simply have to wish and be trustworthy,” I stated to myself.
“Then the sign will come by itself.”
“I’ve to attend 4 to eight weeks.”
Once I obtained to Devon Tower, I rotated and got here again. 
The radio stayed silent.
I obtained again on I-35, this time heading south.
I accelerated till I hit the cruising lane,
I began listening to the high-pitched whistle of the wind 
coming in by the automobile home windows.
I believed, “That’s in all probability my sign.”
Then I remembered, “It hasn’t been 4 weeks
but, it hasn’t even been an hour.”
Typically the wind is simply the wind.
I stored on driving.
It had been an extended Saturday afternoon.

Translations from the Spanish