Feel Puma: Poems
By Ray Gonzalez
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About this ebook
In Feel Puma, Ray Gonzalez traces his love of reading, philosophy, and learning with poems constantly in conversation—with each other, with texts by other writers and the writers themselves, with world history and his personal history and people he has encountered. Woven over three sections, this unique collection is a complex and gorgeous dive into creativity and the inner life of a poet at the height of his craft.
Ray Gonzalez
Ray Gonzalez is the author of numerous books of poetry, including Feel Puma: Poems (UNM Press), The Heat of Arrivals, The Hawk Temple at Tierra Grande, and Soul Over Lightning. He is the recipient of many awards, including the PEN Oakland–Josephine Miles Book Award, the Latino Heritage Award, and the Minnesota Book Award. He lives in Farmington, Minnesota, and is a professor emeritus of literature and creative writing at the University of Minnesota.
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Book preview
Feel Puma - Ray Gonzalez
PART ONE
LAS RAMAS
I began to listen inside the stanza of a poem and heard individual sounds as gripa or airlo or ar calling to each other. A gripa is a creature that cries out, an airlo a floating wing. I don’t know what an ar might be, though it tunes itself. What kind of union did these sounds proclaim? Hearing these cries put me on the other side of the poem, where growth resides. I moved among forceful sounds in my first attempt at the poem. What would happen if a gripa left the poet behind? Decisions about the language would be based on the after-darkness following the encounter. Radiant light between words fertilizes syllables around it. For length, I chose eight lines, which permit a speaker to make his move. It was the sound of my open mouth, la rama coming out, the word related to a Spanish word for root. The notes that fell off las ramas allowed the shadows in the poem to encircle the throat of the speaker, as in roots spreading around a tree trunk, this situation changing constantly because the more you add sound to the poem, new words appear on their own, thus entering the text as the speaker pulls las ramas out of his chest before finishing the poem.
FEEL PUMA
I want to write, but I feel puma
CÉSAR VALLEJO
Feel puma when the black
animal draws near, its shadow
growing in the written snow,
the blossom opening in rivers
and flooded dams where
mountain ice freezes
the stalking tongue.
Feel puma the claws of fate.
Feel puma when the black
creature fills the arms and
legs with instinct for the prey,
plays stone plays anvil plays god,
blasts roads in a ruined country,
the hunter entangled in the trees,
unable to write what he saw.
Feel puma when the black
figure disappears, puts faith
in scorpions and birds, a white
landscape marking magic with
plants and roots from the tree
of quenching silence—the notes
of the unborn.
THE GATE OF WRITING
opens when the cottonwoods don’t
sway together any longer, a voice
rising to speak past the gate,
the text given a chance to become
as dark as the earth, a secret existence
erased from pure sentences,
the response driving the open palm
of the traveler to examine the stars
as if something guards the entryway,
a form moving toward the resolution
left out of the dream, words from
the past scattered beyond accuracy,
eating its light so no one rescues
the drowned and nothing is written
to bring a prophecy where the gate
is left open and the faithful swim back
and close it, tomorrow’s paragraphs
a different story without an end.
THE BOOK
I
The book is invisible.
It has been read many times.
It is illustrated
but can never be seen.
The book opens to one blank page
and the story begins there.
It is missing a page or two.
The tale is being changed.
The book belongs to no one because
its sentences erase words, though
it remembers each reader.
Some of its pages are bent.
It sits open under a lamp.
Its chapters are longer than the table.
The book is filed on the shelf with
its cover like any other cover.
It offers readers one reading
in a lifetime.
The book is never finished.
The ending always comes first.