{"id":5242,"date":"2025-07-06T11:23:56","date_gmt":"2025-07-06T15:23:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/trasatlantica.org\/?page_id=5242"},"modified":"2025-07-06T15:18:19","modified_gmt":"2025-07-06T19:18:19","slug":"the-two-shores-songs-of-improper-experience","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/trasatlantica.org\/?page_id=5242","title":{"rendered":"THE TWO SHORES: SONGS OF IMPROPER EXPERIENCE"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\n

By: Jos\u00e9 Ram\u00f3n Ruis\u00e1nchez Serra<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the opposite pole to innocence is, as Blake taught us, experience.  In this essay I want to think about certain songs of experience. I will call them songs of improper experience. I begin to explain from the collection of poems by Damaris Pu\u00f1ales Alp\u00edzar, No vine a hacerme la inocente<\/em> (2023). Already the title arms my panoply. Its nine syllables announce a disenchantment that enchants: an enunciation from experience. I can no longer be innocent and I am not interested in playing innocent. Who speaks then is not a female Adam pronouncing for the first time the perfect names of things. One might think that she is perhaps an Eve. But this is not the case either. There is memory here, repetition taken advantage of. <\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

   As I did not come here to play the Sybil, I jump to a quotation. This is the first poem of the book:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mi tercer marido
era muy parecido al primero:
ten\u00eda pies peque\u00f1os,
suaves como los de un beb\u00e9.
Mi tercer marido
era tan buen amante
como mi segundo amante:
desataba en m\u00ed
un torbellino multiorg\u00e1smico.
Mi tercer marido
era tan incoherente
como mi tercer amante
y casi tan fiel como el cuarto:
me olvidaba al doblar la esquina.
Mi tercer marido
escrib\u00eda poemas a otras
como mi primer y segundo amantes
y como el novio que tuve
antes de tener el primer amante o el primer marido.
A todos les escrib\u00ed tambi\u00e9n
alg\u00fan verso
y a todos olvid\u00e9
\u2013\u2013incluso al segundo marido
a quien nunca conoc\u00ed.<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
[My third husband  
was very similar to the first one: 
had small feet, 
\tsoft as a baby's. 
My third husband 
was as good a lover  
as my second lover: 
unleashed in me 
a multi-orgasmic whirlwind. 
My third husband 
was as inarticulate 
as my third lover 
and almost as faithful as my fourth: 
who would forget me around the corner. 
My third husband 
wrote poems to others 
like my first and second lovers 
and like the boyfriend I had 
before I had the first lover or the first husband. 
I wrote poems \t
for all of them 
and all of them I forgot 
\u2013even to the second husband 
whom I never knew.]<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
The poem oozes black humor, but it also touches the center of the coordinates I want to propose: throughout the contrast and compare of boyfriends, lovers, husbands, among all this that has happened to me, among all these men that have been in my body, something that has not happened to me sneaks into these lines. There is something that troubles because it is meant to be troubling. That which has not been experienced in the usual sense of the term, as a verifiable fact of the outside world, made me smile the first time I read the poem and, as I progressed through the book, it demanded my return. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
   Before explaining a return to what, I shall retrace the walk through the book I had to take before arriving again at the final lines of this poem: \u201ceven to the second husband \/ whom I never knew\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
    In No vine a hacerme la inocente<\/em>, there are registers produced from contact with different languages. With English, this one appears:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After getting drunk
with poetry and alcohol
the poets will fuck
until they pass out.
The poetry is still the same bad shit.<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
A manner that is outside the diction of the poetic persona in Spanish. I say and am myself differently in English than in Spanish.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
   But there is a Damaris who is not in either of these two languages, who goes through the world in another way, whose nuances surely escape me since I do not know Russian:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Todos los pueblos peque\u00f1os son iguales,
pero este paisaje
se escribe en otro idioma.
Las isbas 
distribuidas casi sim\u00e9tricamente
pueden confundirnos,
hacernos sentir por un momento
en casa 
(\u00bfqu\u00e9 es casa, despu\u00e9s de todo?
\u00bfad\u00f3nde ese lugar para existir?)<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
[All small towns are the same, 
yet, this landscape 
is written in another language.  \t
Isbas 
distributed almost symmetrically 
can confuse us, 
make us feel for a moment 
at home 
(what is home, after all? 
where is that place that allows existence?)]<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
It is precisely from the experience of Russian that another poem comes: \u201cPara Anna Ajm\u00e1tova, tras los pliegues del tiempo\u201d (For Anna Akhmatova, through the folds of time):<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pero podr\u00edamos juntas recorrer la avenida Nevski,
cruzar todos los peque\u00f1os puentes y canales
que llevan
del Neva a tu puerta,
saludar a tu vecina que a\u00fan no te devuelve 
los cinco rublos que pidi\u00f3 prestados,
y sentarnos, finalmente,
en un caf\u00e9 cualquiera cerca de la bah\u00eda,
protegidas acaso por estos pliegues en el tiempo
donde habitamos.<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
[But we could together walk along Nevsky Prospect,  cross all the little bridges and canals  that lead  from the Neva to your door,  
greet your neighbor who has not yet returned 
the five rubles she borrowed, 
and finally sit 
in a caf\u00e9 near the bay, 
perhaps protected by these folds in time 
we inhabit.]<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
In this fragment, I want to emphasize that the poet is apostrophized. The city shared by Akhmatova and the I of the poem in two successive centuries makes this interpellation possible. Yet there is more: the work of imagining Akhmatova in such affectionate detail moves from a series of charming details to a co-living, as it were, that escapes its chronological impossibility. This way of being together connects with the text with which my long detour shall end. There are poems that require research, such as those by Ezra Pound or Gerardo Deniz. This is the case with \u201cUn mensaje en Abydos\u201d (A Message in Abydos): <\/p>\n\n\n\n
en la penumbra del polvoriento templo 
Dorothy se orienta
 por un recuerdo antiguo que la gu\u00eda 
a trav\u00e9s de los oscuros pasillos<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
[In the dim light of the dusty temple 
Dorothy finds her bearings 
through the dark corridors 
guided by an ancient memory]<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
I must confess that when I first read these lines, I imagined Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz<\/em> on an Oriental and Orientalist adventure. I admit that I still like the image of the ruby slippers shining in a dark temple. A literary text is also the inferential strolls it suggests, as Umberto Eco called them; even if they are later ruined or ignored. A literary text, but especially a poem.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
   Now, I like \u201cA Message in Abydos\u201d better, with its corrected Dorothy. Dorothy’s last name was Eady, she was born in the South of England in 1904. After falling down a staircase, she began to have visions (or revelations) of a previous life. At first vague, but from the beginning demanding a return home.  This home was revealed with further detail in a visit to the British Museum. In the interminable Egyptian rooms, little Dorothy recognized her ancestral home in Abydos.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
   Her life is a long journey, which she understands as a return. She learns to decipher the hieroglyphics of the ancient civilization and manages to find a useful Egyptian husband, whom she later, already living in Egypt, exchanges for a second, even more useful one: an archaeologist. She has a son and names him Seti, after the pharaoh who visits her in her dreams. This leads her neighbors to call her Omm Seti: Seti’s mother, as is customary in Egypt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
  Once in Abydos, a team of scholars, naturally composed exclusively of men, challenges her conviction that she is at home, and Dorothy, the one from the poem, knows how to find her way through the labyrinths of the ruins. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
   In the end, she manages to reunite with Pharaoh Seti, who visited her in her dreams. With this information, the poem becomes less obscure:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Omm Seti regresa a casa 
tres mil a\u00f1os despu\u00e9s todo sigue igual.
\tEl far\u00f3n amante la espera
en la penumbra del polvoriento templo
Dorothy se orienta
por un recuerdo antiguo que la gu\u00eda<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
[Omm Seti returns home 
three thousand years later, everything remains the same. 
 The pharaoh lover waits for her 
in the dim light of the dusty temple
Dorothy finds her bearings 
through the dark corridors \/ guided by an ancient memory] <\/pre>\n\n\n\n
   Yet Pu\u00f1ales Alp\u00edzar does one more extraordinary thing, because she knows, through the magic of verse, how to leave the third person and become<\/em> Omm Seti:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Hemos nacido el mismo d\u00eda
Seti y yo.
Solo a m\u00ed me cuenta
lo que alguna noche
dentro de tresmil a\u00f1os
susurrar\u00e9 al o\u00eddo del fara\u00f3n
acariciando con mis dedos 
el polvo de un mensaje
escrito en Abydos.<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
[We were born on the same day 
Seti and I. 
Only to me does he tell 
what one night 
three thousand years from now 
I shall whisper in the pharaoh's ear 
caressing with my fingers 
the dust of a message 
written in Abydos.]<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
In the end, the poet is a seer, allowing herself to be possessed (enthused) by the divine voice, by the restlessness of the daimon, by the memory of the conventionally unrememberable, becoming a vehicle. This is my true home: the poem.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
   From here I return to the skein of my beginning. The second husband, the imagined one, the one she never met, with whom the poem ends, is (or I let him be) Pharaoh Seti. Allowing ourselves this possibility matters. I shall now try to explain why. This collection of poems, which leaves innocence behind and sings of experience, proposes not only realistic experience\u2014which underlies the moral reading of innocence in philosophy, as Elizabeth Wolgast proposes\u2014but also the possibility of an experience that is lived through the intensity of the imagination.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
    So, the cornerstone is that it is possible to access the experience of another person. Further, I would also venture to say that precisely the attention required by poetry is a very powerful way to access this experience. It should be added that, as the poem, if if it remains a poem, is never revealed in a single reading. Rather, it shows more of its layers when we read and reread it collectively. The other members of the group show me different ways of activating these verses, of entering their stanzas, to echo Agamben’s expression. By reading and rereading, the experience encoded in the poem is combined with my experience of going through it, of desiring and surrendering myself to it: of surrendering my self and attempting to be her, the I of the poem; but also allowing the experience suggested by those who read with me: experiencing (and experimenting with) several selves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
    I want to supplement my reading of No vine a hacerme la inocente<\/em> with Santa Teresa de Jes\u00fas<\/em> (2001 and then revised in 2022) by Olvido Garc\u00eda Vald\u00e9s. There, one of the greatest poets of the Spanish language attempts to understand an unshared experience. Santa Teresa de Jes\u00fas<\/em> remains unsatisfactory as a biography when compared to the volumes produced by English or US historians. These robust volumes that, due to their exhaustiveness, often leave their readers exhausted. In contrast, Garc\u00eda Vald\u00e9s’s book has many gaps in its chronology, as it focuses much more on the mystical and the best part of its energy is concentrated on co-creating a voice. It allows the enchanting and free voice of the saint speak (and above all that of the woman who faces real dangers in her journey to sainthood), whom he characterizes as follows: \u201cWho was this woman, an often sick nun, in whose texts we hear a Spanish comparable only to that of Don Quixote, with which she tells us of experiences as exalted as those of St. John of the Cross, and who at the same time founds convents, leads a religious reform, and confronts influential castes and powerful ecclesiastics?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n
\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
   It would seem that Teresa is saying, \u201cI didn’t come here to seem whole,\u201d reminding us that saints are only saints in retrospect, once their trial of residence in this world is complete, having convinced the devil’s advocate. In order to better complete her comprehension, Garc\u00eda Vald\u00e9s needs to build a textual bridge to Saint Teresa that traces her own via negativa <\/em>through Simone Weil, Clarice Lispector, and Ludwig Wittgenstein. These bridges are necessary, as she confesses to being agnostic and, thus immune to the voices of mysticism.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
   Now, I believe it is necessary to characterize what No vine a hacerme la inocente<\/em> (a book by a Cuban author living in the United States, published in Spain) and the biographical essay on Saint Teresa (by a Spanish author, published in Mexico) have in common. This can only be achieved through what we can call improper experience, privileging what Lacan called the feminine position. Lacan, reading with perverse attention Hegel\u2019s schlecht Unendlichkeit<\/em>, bad infinity: a set whose proliferation is not closed because it lacks an exceptional element that manages to close the series, because it does not belong to it. In the words of Jean-Claude Milner:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Lacan distinguishes between S1 and S2. S1 is the signifiant-ma\u00eetre<\/em>; as indicated by its index, it is structurally first. Each utterance of S1 functions as if it were unprecedented. S2 ,on the other hand, is knowledge, le savoir<\/em>; as indicated by its index, it is structurally second. S1 functions as the signifiant-ma\u00eetre<\/em> as long as it is excepted from knowledge; by uttering that signifiant, the subject asserts that it is the name of everyone\u2019s ignorance, including his own. Among the verbal tenses, it is disconnected from all past tenses. S2, by contrast, is crucially connected with a past tense : it is still already known.<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
Thus, what is avoided in the female position is the founding appearance of S1, which can ignore all previous readings (of the poem) and interpreting it definitively. The feminine position accumulates traits and possibilities, but it is not capable of finishing, of determining, of being categorical. And when I say poem, I could also say the other: Dorothy Eady or St. Teresa: I try to understand them, but always from a knowledge that remains partial, but which, in its effort, allows me to access the improper experience that remains inaccessible to S1, which can only settle in the proper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
   Now, I want to rethink this by proposing another vocabulary, returning to our initial binary. I would like to give a name to the need of continuous accretion of knowledge that characterizes my experience of the experience of my fellow human, she whom I feel close to and at the same time insurmountably mysterious and distant. I want to name this curiosity, which opens me up to a way of reading and imagining, innocence<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
    Experience, that experience I have here called improper, therefore requires a return to innocence. Not playing innocent, but actually being innocent, admitting that my personal experience has limits, that it does not reach what another person lives or has lived. Another person who is akin to and simultaneously radically alien to me, and that is precisely why it is interesting to approach them. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
   That which surprises me with its radical strangeness and<\/em> speaks to me very closely is the definition of poetic diction. Anna Akhmatova or Saint Teresa of Jesus, force (seduce) me into their strangeness to draw closer to them. More often than not attracting a constellation of other affinities (which have in common their unique diction: San Juan de la Cruz or Clarice Lispector) that allow me to reconstruct, or more exactly, to continue reconstructing (without ever finishing) the experience I have intuited. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
   The poem compels me to reread it, but more than anything else, to share it, to initiate others into its endless expressing radiation, into that which insists from the strange accuracy of its verses. The intersubjective field is\u2014in addition to the twist produced by two voices coexisting in the space of the poem\u2014a hospitality for listening, for reading. A reader is necessary to complete the \u201cus.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
   Now, in this spirit, I want the group that forms around a poem (a collection of poems) not to exhaust it (as the phrasal verb \u201cexplain away\u201d so rightly expresses in English). The obligation is not to turn the poem into an analytical shorthand of what it \u201cmeans,\u201d what it \u201csymbolizes,\u201d its genealogies; but rather to keep the embers burning when those questions have already been answered (and forgotten). In that sense, the position of the group reading the poem is also one of innocence: we have not finished experiencing the poem. And that is what it is all about.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Works Cited<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
Garc\u00eda Vald\u00e9s, Olvido. Teresa de Jes\u00fas: un ensayo biogr\u00e1fico<\/em>. Prol. Tania Favela. UNAM, 2022.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Milner, Jean-Claude. \u201cThe Prince and the Revolutionary\u201d available at        https:\/\/www.crisiscritique.org\/storage\/app\/media\/2016-03-29\/milner.pdf<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pu\u00f1ales Alp\u00edzar, Damaris. No vine a hacerme la inocente. <\/em>Liliputienses, 2023.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Wolgast, Elizabeth. \u201cInnocence\u201d in\u00a0Philosophy<\/em>, Jul., 1993, Vol. 68, No. 265 (Jul., 1993), pp.\u00a0297-307.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
By: Jos\u00e9 Ram\u00f3n Ruis\u00e1nchez Serra In the opposite pole to innocence is, as Blake taught us, experience.  In this essay I want to think about certain songs of experience. I will call them songs of improper experience. I begin to explain from the collection of poems by Damaris Pu\u00f1ales Alp\u00edzar, No vine a hacerme la inocente (2023). Already […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":33188029,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_coblocks_attr":"","_coblocks_dimensions":"","_coblocks_responsive_height":"","_coblocks_accordion_ie_support":"","_crdt_document":"","advanced_seo_description":"","jetpack_seo_html_title":"","jetpack_seo_noindex":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-5242","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"jetpack_likes_enabled":false,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/P2V8if-1my","jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":5145,"url":"https:\/\/trasatlantica.org\/?page_id=5145","url_meta":{"origin":5242,"position":0},"title":"Jos\u00e9 Ram\u00f3n Ruis\u00e1nchez Serra","author":"Soviet Cuba: Identities in Transition","date":"June 27, 2025","format":false,"excerpt":"LAS DOS ORILLAS: CANCIONES DE EXPERIENCIA (IM)PROPIA THE TWO SHORES: SONGS OF IMPROPER EXPERIENCE","rel":"","context":"Similar post","block_context":{"text":"Similar post","link":""},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/trasatlantica.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/07\/Cubierta-de-Damaris-Punales-2-1.png?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/trasatlantica.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/07\/Cubierta-de-Damaris-Punales-2-1.png?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/trasatlantica.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/07\/Cubierta-de-Damaris-Punales-2-1.png?resize=525%2C300&ssl=1 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/trasatlantica.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/07\/Cubierta-de-Damaris-Punales-2-1.png?resize=700%2C400&ssl=1 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":3940,"url":"https:\/\/trasatlantica.org\/?page_id=3940","url_meta":{"origin":5242,"position":1},"title":"Odette Alonso","author":"Soviet Cuba: Identities in Transition","date":"May 24, 2025","format":false,"excerpt":"P\u00f3rtico Los p\u00e1jaros que salen de tu bocallenan el d\u00eda de reverberaciones.La luz que dejanse enreda entre los hilos de la ruecade la que surge un tejido transparente.La pared te sostienecuando te abres el pechoy brota el canto.Yosentada a tus pieslo sue\u00f1o todo. 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Mis antepasados pod\u00edan ver las trincheras,hasta olerlas presagiando la muerte demilicianos y milicianas, un gritoque emana desde la panza de\u2026","rel":"","context":"Similar post","block_context":{"text":"Similar post","link":""},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/trasatlantica.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/09\/PHOTO-2024-09-16-14-00-17-2.jpg?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":5206,"url":"https:\/\/trasatlantica.org\/?page_id=5206","url_meta":{"origin":5242,"position":4},"title":"LAS DOS ORILLAS: CANCIONES DE EXPERIENCIA (IM)PROPIA","author":"Soviet Cuba: Identities in Transition","date":"July 6, 2025","format":false,"excerpt":"Por: Jos\u00e9 Ram\u00f3n Ruis\u00e1nchez Serra El polo opuesto a la inocencia es, como nos ense\u00f1\u00f3 Blake, la experiencia.\u00a0\u00a0En este ensayo quiero pensar\u00a0ciertas\u00a0canciones de experiencia. Las que llamar\u00e9 canciones de experiencia impropia. Empiezo a explicar a partir del poemario de Damaris Pu\u00f1ales Alp\u00edzar,\u00a0No vine a hacerme la inocente\u00a0(2023).\u00a0Ya el t\u00edtulo me\u2026","rel":"","context":"Similar post","block_context":{"text":"Similar post","link":""},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/trasatlantica.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/07\/Cubierta-de-Damaris-Punales-2-1.png?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/trasatlantica.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/07\/Cubierta-de-Damaris-Punales-2-1.png?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/trasatlantica.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/07\/Cubierta-de-Damaris-Punales-2-1.png?resize=525%2C300&ssl=1 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/trasatlantica.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/07\/Cubierta-de-Damaris-Punales-2-1.png?resize=700%2C400&ssl=1 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":2149,"url":"https:\/\/trasatlantica.org\/?page_id=2149","url_meta":{"origin":5242,"position":5},"title":"Yordan Arroyo Carvajal (in English)","author":"Soviet Cuba: Identities in Transition","date":"October 16, 2024","format":false,"excerpt":"GREEK MYTHS AS INTERNAL STRUGGLE: NANCY BANARD AND HER YORUBA MEDEA\u00a0 Yordan Arroyo Carvajal1University of Salamancahttps:\/\/orcid.org\/0000-0002-2509-4918 ABSTRACT This article develops an analysis, from the perspective of an active reader, of the mythological figure of Medea in the dramatic monologue \u201cMedea: lev\u00e1ntare y anda\" (2022) by the writer Nancy Banard. 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