Pedro Casariego Córdoba, unpublished | Babelia

“Our own words / prevent us from speaking. / It seemed impossible. / Our own words ”. Quoted, copied and retouched, these four verses have become an emblem of Spanish poetry in recent years. The same as its author, Pedro Casariego Cordoba, who was born in 1955 and committed suicide 37 years later by throwing himself onto the train track. Two days before - on January 6, 1993 - he wrote his last text, a story illustrated by himself as a gift for his daughter Julieta. Casariego, what many times he signed PeCasCorBetween 1977 and 1987, he wrote - afterwards he devoted himself to painting - six arguably "chained" poems and fifty poems in which his unconventional vision of love and of a world to which it does not adapt particularly shines.
In 2003, the Seix Barral publishing house gathered all that poetry in a volume prologue by Angel Gonzalez with notes like this: “Pedro Casariego Córdoba's literature, oscillating between humor and gravity, immodest and demure, will always preserve an elusive secret background that resists any attempt at rationalization. Nor is it necessary; it is enough for readers to abandon ourselves to the strange charm that this largely ineffable speech gives off to intuitively apprehend what in its secret depth is suggested and not said ”.

Almost 20 years later, the same label publishes this Tuesday a revised and expanded edition of that collected poetry. Reviewed by the Casariego -all one family of writers- and expanded with texts the figure of PeCasCor signed by authors such as Enrique Vila-Matas, Ray Loriga, Marta Sanz, Belén Bermejo or Antonio Gamoneda.
The book, of more than 500 pages, is completed with a special introduction for each book and five unpublished poems, three of which we publish today in Babelia.
Your red eyes
1983. Manuscript
I
they love
your
eyes
blue
flushed
by
the
excesses
of
the
nights
what
raisins
far
of
me.
Those
nights
dwarf
your
eyes
until
drops
of
sea.
I FORGIVE YOU
1983. Manuscript
I forgive you.
Maybe I put in you
too much hope
and too many hands
(in your terrible shadow
so withered
in your future mouth
so quiet
in the irremediable smile
what are your repeated lips
by Mendel and his family).
If a sick tree
if a tree
is the photocopy
from another tree ...
if a fallen tree
is another tree that stands tall
how to look up
then the one who speaks alone
(the mute)
(Carson McCullers)
it's the drawer pull
from the flowers
the shooting rain
the drought
for the good of the snails
star shell
very fast
destined for stillness
of the
astronomers.
Needed
I just need to pay the
price of a coffee that gets cold
poke around

In my blue pockets
THE ROSCÓN DE REYES
for Berta. (December 1992- January 1993). Manuscript
Everything is full of cops
and that's why the eyelids get tired.
There are also tigers
blues that weave without stopping.
I don't know what else there is.
Maybe there are too many breakfasts
and too many cupcakes.
They tell me that
roscón de Reyes
is more dangerous than
a howitzer.

'Chained poems'
Author: Pedro Casariego Cordoba
Editorial: Seix Barral. 2020
Format: Soft top or pocket. 544 pages
I believe it.