Friends of @ADSactly, I'm presenting an interpretation of a collection of poems by one of Venezuela's leading living poets (his first installment can be found here).The book of poems is titled The nothingness watchful, and in it the poet deals with the difficult problem of challenge and impediment in creation, an issue that has been addressed by others, collected, for example, in the famous phrase of the "blank page".

Uninhabited and thirsty for language, the body is removed in the search for a truth -"the exterior forever to beauty," says the poetic voice-, which is an "invertebrate figure. The flesh, fevered by the need to express the formless, anticipates, like a "white flame", its death: "Death will resemble this aridity".

The poem is shown without experiencing the "total word". It is painless, intransitive, distracted, barren. It is not a palate word, grown as inner flesh: "I can only allude, almost touch / the corpse poem embellished / by the histrionic say (...)".

Faced with this only the vigil, that is, the vigil of being. Waiting is desire, and vice versa. The word knows itself postponed and, at the same time, burning in the white of the page. An intemperate need tries to "spell nothingness", to make it speak from its questioning presence, questioning. Possessing an inexorable truth, which is lived in darkness like a "sleeping animal", nothing contemplates and is contemplated. One passes through one's own gaze and the gaze of others: "to look melancholy at nothing", in the words of Rojas Guardia. He reviews the edges of the paper, the smooth face of the table, the passing of time folded. He agrees his intimate pact with the silence of the light and the forms that make the day, or receive, urgent and loving, the decline of the night in the walls that the shadows claim.

_Source

I love the darkness: it resembles me.
He hates all rumbling.
(…)
I wish this were a weightless text.
where the shadow would fit in its entirety
and the longed-for forms will rest
of the universal day and its bustle.

Hidden in the world, it breathes a lightness, a weightlessness; in it a sense is suspended that the attention perceives and tries to express; but it escapes between the fingers of the writing, it becomes mental emptiness. There remains the unfulfilled longing of the word, its dark side, in which "that" continues crackling in absence: "It is the back of the verb that I look at".

Nevertheless, the thirst for the word remains as expected, knowing, as Borges would say, "the imminence of a revelation that does not take place". Will it be the impossibility, the silent trace, the immobile attention, the sacred signs of a possible saying? In what "bleak place" should we place the will and the strength of that expectation that makes it possible to say? The voice speaks to us: "I want that ungraspable to remain intact. Waiting and assent are shown as the forms that vigil assumes and requires. In them, desire and tolerance are preserved, the patient longing, the intimate restlessness. We read in The nothingness watchful:

_Source

How do I wait for the poem? I can see it
to sprout haunted from my mouth,
laden with failure and yet
calling himself impassive, inexhaustible
despite the dry bottom of my soul.

The tearing of the soul, its silent resonance, its abysmal openness in the word, confronts us with the ontological and religious character of poetry. In the vigil and in the nothingness that is affirmed in it, the sacred, the mystery - so rooted in the work and life of Armando Rojas Guardia - will outline the joyful and incomplete face of the saying. That is why it will be expressed that the poem "(...) waits / to fill itself like a glass / filled with the peaceful longing / of the silence of God (...)".

Far from the extroversion, security and titanism of a certain poetry, the eloquence of the "not at all vigilant" stands as it speaks of the desert, the word of the reverse and the bad weather.