I always carry with me “A Poet in New York” by Lorca. The book is an infinite company, a heavenly vitamin. For me, the metaphorical, psychedelic high-voltage Lorca was a youthful fascination, and I never recovered from its nourishing vitality. I have evidently, for years, collected various editions of A Poet in New York, and thus a modest, but adequate, anthology of a book has come into my life that is somewhat like an ocean. I inherited from my father, centuries ago, the edition of Lorca’s complete works, on Bible paper and leather cover, by Aguilar, and I see that the magnificent edition made by Jesús Ejido is now, in the Kingdom of… See more
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