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* A poem by Amparo Arróspide, from “En el oído del viento” (Baile del Sol, 2016). Hers and Robin Ouzman´s translation. *** Can't all poets get a PhD in synesthesia by the University of Columba in New York? Can´t they harvest medallions under the moon? Can´t they work as professors of Punic Sciences? As kindergarten teachers, can´t they work? Can´t they translate their 14th century Chinese concubine colleagues? Can´t they afford to pay for their third self-published volume? Can´t all poets live on air? Can't they rummage, deconstruct , snoop build for themselves a submerged house inhabit a crystal palace? Can´t they repeat over and over the unsaid incite questions of ethical and aesthetic weight dismantle and fragment reality? Can´t they receive writing from a yearning and swift void? From a primordial nothingness? Can´t they mortgage their crystal palace their submerged house? Can´t they rebelliously peddle little stars? Can´t all poor poets steal books? Can´t they read so the complete works by Samuel and Ezra and John by Juana Inés, Alejandra and Gabriela by Anne and Margaret and Stevie by Wallace and Edgar and Charles by Arthur and Paul and Vladimir by Dulce and Marina and Marosa? And etcetera and etcetera and etcetera and etcetera? Can´t all poets add more beauty to beauty and more horror to horror? Can´t they draw maps and routes of the invisible, futuristic city foretold by their dreams? Can´t they pursue the intangible Move towards permanence so that a poem becomes a closed and completed vehicle to treasure a present without behind or beyond? Can't they unfold and transmigrate can't they achieve mindfulness Can´t they stammer forever into everlasting silence?

This moment is a metaphor, 

        the metaphor is a war,

               the war for the survival of mankind.


Its victims are those who sold weapon

     its victims are those who bought the weapons,

          its victims are those on whom incendiary explosives were and are being fired.


Its victims are those who armtwisted national regimes, 

     its victims are the benighted nations,

          its victims are rich, its victims are poor.

           
Its victims are those who stockpile nuclear arsenal, 

     but have scant PPEs and Ventilators,

             its victims are the stereotyped minorities.


Its victims are the old who have lived their lives,

     its victims are millennials in callow youth having starry dreams, 

          its victims are infants and even new borns.


Its victims are those who are living lives in house arrest 
     
      fending an invisible nano scale enemy threatening to reduce the world

           in a nuclear winter without any bombs being dropped.


This moment is an allegory,

       which nobody knows, no one understands,

             it stammers and rattles, and speaks everything at once!

Debashish is a machine learning scientist, who has been published in literary magazines several
times across the globe, including Poetry Life & Times, where he was interviewed twice.

He is currently contending with a severe writer’s block spanning a decade, when he has hardly
produced any publishable content. He is also losing emotional connection with his own work
gradually, and spends more time to edit/tighten his old poems than creating any new content.

Editor’s Note: Debashish Haar was interviewed twice in the old Poetry Life and Times, once by
Sarah Russell then Editor & later by myself as a new Editor before it folded in 2008.

The New Poetry Life & Times restarted in 2013 at Artvilla.com site, Admin David Jackson.

Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times ; You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

Can´t All Poets Audio Text Poem by Amparo Arrospide, Read by Robin Ouzman Hislop,Arrangement by Dave Jackson. Guitar Andy Derryberry

The Spirit of Corona Times. An Audio Textual Poem by Debashish Haar

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