Inevitably the cathartic intersects the limit with the infinity, the suffering (i) of mobility with the euphoria of the flight in the volume Wing wardrobe of the poet Ruben Bucoiu. He states as a motto: "man is born to fly, therefore he suffers", (re) semantizing a verse from the book of Job:
"Man is born to suffer, as a spark is born to fly" (Job 5: 7).
That is why man needs a whole wardrobe of wings, in order to align birth with death, and between them and beyond ... (us) The saving content. To match each query and escalate the recurring smallness, the remnants of the perceptible with the uncensored and revealing flight. The chain of words, filtered by the creative sensitivity, is not decrypted to the end, because the stake is for the reader to be attracted, stolen by the game, to wear the clothes of a real homo ludens (Huizinga), to keep trying the wings until he hits the ones. ideal. Despite the fact that the fence of the contingent is definitely uncomfortable, the reader must participate, not dream.
Being in the third volume of poetry, after In the shell of the question mark (2013) and The extra eye (2015), Ruben Bucoiu skillfully chiseled his poetic formula, not only by gaining an individualized rhythmicity, but also through elliptical expressions, which the reader is invited to complete according to his own sensitivity. We find in his poems accents from Nichita Stanescu, Lucian Blaga, Marin Sorescu, Charles Baudelaire or Rainer Maria Rilke, and the range of intertextuality can widen indefinitely. However, the proposed poetic formula reveals its own stylistics, which removes it from the temptations of mimicry, but at the same time makes it (more) untranslatable.
The playful dynamics are ingeniously highlighted, because after you take it in a direction of meaning and you have the impression that everything is clear as daylight, suddenly a new semantic axis is glimpsed in the chiaroscuro of the next phrase, which the reader gropes or stuttering, followed by enchanted, fascinated, motivated by the always delayed promise of a totalizing, bright and saving understanding. The perplexity combined with the effort to enter the new semantic phage forces the participation, the discovery:
I'm working on a dream - nothing new
maybe it's like you
It keeps me silly, stupid
he doesn't pay me
he wants me to volunteer
anytime, no matter how much
unconscious and alive
if you can put toothpaste on me
on the finger
or shaving foam in the palm
(to be completed)
"Do you eat oatmeal?" he bowed
but left in the palms of the Lord
by writing the hats he shot
the sparkling smile of an answer
since then he keeps running
under the whip of speed
moaning from time to time
the light in the reader's eye
(the story of the studs)
Ruben Bucoiu has the ability to make the reader stay with all the sharp senses, not to fall asleep passing from one verb to another, from one eye to another, not to feel like in a repetitive swing, like in a universe compensatory, but rather as a full-time actor in the spectacle of life, poetry, non-existence and resurrection. The receiver resembles a climber who measures with hardness and consistency the spiral, with the implied ups and downs ... In fact, the labyrinth and the spiral are overlapping topos, as the dialectic of the distance-almost does not have to be solved, but only exposed.
In the matrix of becoming, the Logos has the first and the last word, it is diachrony and synchrony, genesis, apocalypse ... and everything / everything that follows them. The baby's crying is in an incomprehensible language - "I was crying under my name / in a foreign language (first letter), and the one who passed through the sieve of history, through the sieve of the event, ignored his voice, listening to the" voice of the flight "or the sound of the trumpet:" and maybe the noise beyond the triggers / will be my characteristic noise / the voice of my flight / through the air of the weather (...) «… I don't have a voice of mine / a voice of mine / in me / the bravery of others vibrates / the dry bones waiting for the resurrection / the sound of the trumpet! »” (unshared intimacy)
Emblematic is the poem convention of a verbal tense ... another pair of wings, gracefully taken from the wardrobe, as an exercise in voluntary memory. "Long ago" this is how things came into being, and the making of the world was not disputed. That's how it worked - with tools at hand and the sweat of his brow. The skill of the hand is intertwined with the philosophizing in a smooth comprehension, without asperities or obstacles: "and the two of us - we philosophize / resigning ourselves with support / to the invisible shoulder of the world". In the past, it was not things (G. Perec) that dominated us, but us. From time to time, the playful becomes a simple interface that allows the vision of paradigmatic gestures: "I divided the pile in two - / as before Moses the waters of the sea". The original meaning is in being as natural as possible.
The volume of poems "Wing wardrobe" by the poet Ruben Bucoiu is like a continuous table of contents, without introduction and without conclusion. And not because a postponement technique would be necessary in poetry, as in epic, dramatic or cinematic discourse, but because there is a lot of substance, because the semantic network is dense, protein and constantly tempting, a permanent invitation to re / to come. Without the fear of reflecting the everyday in its chameleon essence, both suffering and flight, impurity and sanctification, unbreathable plague and oxygenation more than the lung can contain, the poetic (i) ethical act is confused with the (passing) ritual. Verse after verse, wing after wing, taken out of the wardrobe as big as the world, in the act of reception, the reader is transported from the event to the immanent (re) sight, in a kind of indefinitely spaced agora. There is no need for secret gates, through which to enter the labyrinthine corridors, which you do not end without a guide (Tarkovsian or not). It is not the solution that matters, but the Don Quixote labor of search, the saving metamorphosis.