Word of the Deceased
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This book reflects the implosion of the city towards another immensity. Here the whole city is submerging under the mega-tsunami of poetic configuration. Everywhere increasing the murmur of zero, echoing in its corners and binary walls, beneath the appearance, the prairie of antennae, the semi-formal life that evaporates with the calm of shipping and receiving. In this semi-real -therefore, false- world of screens where each one is a cosmos, in all the psychic and material walls, the poet sees temples in rubble, churches in ashes and demolished cathedrals. With vigorously piercing images, with...
This book reflects the implosion of the city towards another immensity. Here the whole city is submerging under the mega-tsunami of poetic configuration. Everywhere increasing the murmur of zero, echoing in its corners and binary walls, beneath the appearance, the prairie of antennae, the semi-formal life that evaporates with the calm of shipping and receiving. In this semi-real -therefore, false- world of screens where each one is a cosmos, in all the psychic and material walls, the poet sees temples in rubble, churches in ashes and demolished cathedrals. With vigorously piercing images, with constant verbal power, with lively phosphorescent adjectives, he has discovered, and at the same time created, a much less imaginary city than the "real" one. He conjures a terrible and transcendent poetic city, an original plane, a fortune of reality, an immensity, a plain immensity. That is Jonathan Estrada's line of flight. Around the corner, the flight. - Jose Pancorvo
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