Las Tunas, Cuba.- The author of indelible poems such as "Speech of an Alone Man" has left, but the traces of his creative pulse will remain alive. Time is not the executioner of men and women with lights. Besides, poetry is eternal and has that strange mystery of reviving the soul that writes it.
When Visceral Figures, one of his last projects (Winner of the Gilberto E. Rodríguez 2019 creative scholarship) is published; we will find him again through reading. I interviewed him about it a few months ago. He told me that the book "deals with the interior of man, ambiguous and hard feelings such as pain, loss and the fleeting nature of time". What an irony of life! That is how I feel.
I was struck by the fact that love, the leitmotiv of his literary creation, was not present in that volume. We got used to the fact that his poems fell in love with people, united beings, were learned by heart...
Today, he occupies the sidereal space destined for the great rhapsodists. He walks in the ether with Ondina Gamboa, Guillermo Vidal, Juan Manuel Herrera, Ramiro Duarte, Martha Pérez Leyva and other unforgettable bards of this land.
This poet to the core was also a narrator, a member of the Union of Writers and Artists of Cuba (Uneac) and a graduate in Film, Radio and Television Direction. He was also founder of the Hermanos Saíz Association (AHS) in the territory and won several important prizes such as the Cucalambé (2005 and 2009). Among his publications are: I thank God for being an atheist, Terrenal, Slides, Lunar Games, Juanillo, Sheeps and demons (recognized by the paper door National Editorial Project), and God's Days. He had unpublished The colors of Indira (poetry for children) and, as far as he told me, he was writing a novel called The bad man.
He always admired the work of César Vallejo and defended the Spanish language. His references were the Cubans Eliseo Diego, Rafael Alcides Pérez and Dulce María Loynaz, as well as Spanish, North American, English and French writers. He confessed to me that he would have liked to write the Bible and if it could have been a poem, it would have been "The last day of a house," of Loynaz.
Since 1984, when he met Antonio Gutiérrez (also a writer) in Las Tunas Hotel and taught him some writings, he would not stop creating. "Thank you very much. I took my first steps in literature in the literary workshop Cucalambé, which he attended for free. I also thank Hermèrides Pompa," he said.
Tony was an authentic writer, one of those who feel the fibers of the world and, without hesitation, face the blank page. He did not pretend "to be optimistic at the wrong time, but to propose a reality interview through the springs of an intimate, confessional poetry, which must serve the reader as an irreverent and multiple mirrors in which to try on each daily blindfold," he told me. Rest in peace, my friend. Your body, as you said in verses, "has to light up in a bend."
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