{"id":14693,"date":"2020-12-04T09:05:09","date_gmt":"2020-12-04T08:05:09","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/magazin.stadtsprachen.de\/en\/?post_type=stsp_text&#038;p=14693"},"modified":"2021-02-07T15:01:49","modified_gmt":"2021-02-07T14:01:49","slug":"poemas-felipe-saez-riquelme","status":"publish","type":"stsp_text","link":"https:\/\/stadtsprachen.de\/en\/text\/poemas-felipe-saez-riquelme\/","title":{"rendered":"Poemas"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><strong>El R\u00edo<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Despierto y soy el r\u00edo<br \/>\napenas abro los ojos<br \/>\nmis pensamientos que inician<br \/>\nel contacto \/ se los lleva<br \/>\nla onda corta del r\u00edo<br \/>\n\u00bfviajo o soy el viaje \/ del r\u00edo?<br \/>\nvoy de un lado a otro<br \/>\n\/ de la se\u00f1al<br \/>\ncaudal invisible \/ del r\u00edo<br \/>\ncolumpio en el que voy<br \/>\nen el que vengo<br \/>\nen el que muero.<br \/>\nUn instante o quiz\u00e1s menos<br \/>\nun segundo \/ una cent\u00e9sima<br \/>\no el l\u00edmite<br \/>\nde lo que es posible soportar<br \/>\nen cualquier orden<br \/>\nen cualquier momento<br \/>\n\/ de la jornada<br \/>\npara apenas quedarse quieto<br \/>\ncon suerte interrumpir<br \/>\nir de uno a cero<br \/>\nen contra<br \/>\nen el r\u00edo.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>La Bandera del Para\u00edso<br \/>\n<\/strong><br \/>\nMiro mi sombra y est\u00e1 cagada<br \/>\nde la risa porque ve<br \/>\nc\u00f3mo me estoy quemando.<br \/>\nSombra que acontece que<br \/>\nenceguece que aunque no<br \/>\nlo sepas permanece. Est\u00e1 ah\u00ed<br \/>\na la espalda de las buenas<br \/>\nintenciones est\u00e1 ah\u00ed<br \/>\nen la cara no visible<br \/>\nde la cordillera es el hemisferio<br \/>\ndel cerebro que no utilizas<br \/>\nes la l\u00ednea que pariste cuando<br \/>\nsimplemente te paraste y que<br \/>\ncontin\u00faa la trayectoria<br \/>\ndel recto es el viento<br \/>\nque tironea el vello p\u00fabico<br \/>\ndel amanecer era esa pu\u00f1alada<br \/>\nque significa nacer y venir a dar<br \/>\na este lado del cielo<br \/>\nera esa bombilla de luz<br \/>\nque le faltaba a mi enrabiada<br \/>\nbisabuela entre animales sucios<br \/>\ny el pasto sin cortar es el dispositivo<br \/>\nprogramado a la hora del sue\u00f1o<br \/>\npara hacerte dormir<br \/>\ncomo un cad\u00e1ver. Est\u00e1 ah\u00ed<br \/>\ncon su m\u00e1scara brillante cuando<br \/>\nla niegas est\u00e1 ah\u00ed apretando las teclas<br \/>\nmientras voy saltando plataformas<br \/>\nen un juego de nintendo. Mi sombra<br \/>\nque acerca la navaja<br \/>\nde la ventana al cuello. Mi sombra<br \/>\ncon forma de mi cuerpo<br \/>\ncorriendo los 400 metros planos<br \/>\nen las olimpiadas de la pobreza.<br \/>\nMi sombra clavando en una monta\u00f1a<br \/>\nde basura la bandera del para\u00edso<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>T\u00fa que te crees t\u00fa<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>T\u00fa que te crees t\u00fa<br \/>\nso\u00f1ando el sue\u00f1o de un monstruo flojo<br \/>\nque en su \u00fanico ojo<br \/>\nrepite la misma pel\u00edcula:<br \/>\nt\u00fa que te crees t\u00fa<br \/>\nbusc\u00e1ndote en tus padres<br \/>\nrob\u00e1ndole al mundo una emoci\u00f3n virgen<br \/>\np\u00e1jaros de fuego<br \/>\nmedievales \/ de papel celof\u00e1n<br \/>\nanuncian el renacimiento<br \/>\nlas g\u00f3ndolas del supermercado<br \/>\nse suicidan en c\u00e1mara lenta<br \/>\npero mientras t\u00fa te creas t\u00fa<br \/>\nquiero que<br \/>\nestas sean mis manos<br \/>\nesta sea mi sombra alargada por la luz el\u00e9ctrica<br \/>\nestos sean mis lentes de sol ahumados.<\/p>\n<p>T\u00fa que te crees t\u00fa<br \/>\nrecibe esto de ti: un libro que le\u00edste<br \/>\ndel cual no recuerdas<br \/>\nuna sola palabra.<br \/>\nRevisas los subrayados \/ no fuiste t\u00fa<br \/>\npero est\u00e1s de acuerdo<br \/>\ncomo si hubieras sido aquel que se pertenece<br \/>\ncomo una isla futura<br \/>\nmundo-uno<br \/>\ndonde esperas que alguien descubra<br \/>\nlo especial que eres<br \/>\npero cada uno<br \/>\nen su hex\u00e1gono espera<br \/>\nque alguien descubra<br \/>\nla dulce miel del genio<br \/>\nde cada mundo-uno.<br \/>\n\u00bfDe qui\u00e9n?<br \/>\nDe t\u00fa \/ que te crees t\u00fa<br \/>\ncon ligeras variantes que no alcanzan<br \/>\na refutar la hip\u00f3tesis de que eres<br \/>\nel mismo sujeto-sujetado<br \/>\nuna cifra exacta<br \/>\npero en disminuci\u00f3n<br \/>\nun l\u00edquido que se consume poco a poco<br \/>\na lo largo de un conducto<br \/>\nen el transcurso<br \/>\nd\u00eda a d\u00eda en la novela<br \/>\nel calendario<br \/>\nel r\u00edo fluye como carnaval de m\u00e1scaras<br \/>\npero t\u00fa<br \/>\nque te crees t\u00fa<br \/>\nno est\u00e1s m\u00e1s cuerdo<br \/>\nque el loco de Alsina y S\u00e1enz Pe\u00f1a<br \/>\nque se cree Napole\u00f3n.<\/p>\n<p>T\u00fa que eres t\u00fa<br \/>\nso\u00f1ando el sue\u00f1o de un monstruo,<br \/>\n\u00bferes el jard\u00edn o el jardinero?<br \/>\n\u00bfla monta\u00f1a o el alpinista?<br \/>\n\u00bfel cielo<br \/>\no el piloto del avi\u00f3n?<br \/>\nT\u00fa que te crees t\u00fa<br \/>\nrecibe esto de ti: un empuj\u00f3n<br \/>\ny se cierra la puerta.<br \/>\nEst\u00e1s en la casa de los espejos<br \/>\noscuridad<br \/>\npreguntas por alguien<br \/>\ny su nombre rebota cambiando seg\u00fan<br \/>\nel reflejo deforme de cada espejo<br \/>\ny ya son tantos los nombres en el aire<br \/>\nque el ox\u00edgeno es escaso<br \/>\nparece una pesadilla<br \/>\nmiras tu mano<br \/>\ndescubres que no te pertenece<br \/>\npiensas: esta mano no es mi mano<br \/>\nes la mano de otro<br \/>\ny en realidad<br \/>\nno eres <em>t\u00fa<\/em> el que piensa<br \/>\neste pensamiento,<br \/>\nentonces corres<br \/>\npor la casa de los espejos<br \/>\nvas siendo todas las formas y cada vez<br \/>\nm\u00e1s deforme hasta que no eres<br \/>\nnada<br \/>\ny de pronto despiertas.<br \/>\nEst\u00e1 tu gato siam\u00e9s<br \/>\nlami\u00e9ndote la cara.<br \/>\nLo ahuyentas<br \/>\npero se resiste,<br \/>\nte mira a los ojos<br \/>\ncon su voz grave<br \/>\nte dice:<\/p>\n<p>t\u00fa que te crees t\u00fa<br \/>\nno hagas de m\u00ed<br \/>\nque me crea yo.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>El R\u00edo Despierto y soy el r\u00edo apenas abro los ojos mis pensamientos que inician el contacto \/ se los lleva la onda corta del r\u00edo \u00bfviajo o soy el viaje \/ del r\u00edo? voy de un lado a otro \/ de la se\u00f1al caudal invisible \/ del r\u00edo columpio en el que voy en [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":14510,"template":"","categories":[20,11],"class_list":["post-14693","stsp_text","type-stsp_text","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-issue-16","category-lyrik"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v28.7 - 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