Ways in, ways out, borders, superimposed blades
over the dense fabric of night.
A man sleeps, the skies move
over the Atlantic, more nocturnal than the sleep
that obscures the recognised image
of his mind moved by death – ‘my death’,
Luís Quintais poetry somewhat evades the more or less predictable trends of the most recent Portuguese poetry; in its most figurative aspect it owes something to Seamus Heaney and, in its opaqueness, to Wallace Stevens. It is a poetry that codifies language processes and insights in a reflective manner, in an open code, rather than documenting them. This cryptographic trait of his poetry is, precisely, the root of poetry itself, wishfully disfigured, impressed, condensed.
Luis Quintais was born in Angola. He is a professor of social anthropology at the University of Coimbra, where he lives.
Poetry books since 2000:
Verso Antigo (2001), Angst (2003), Duelo (2004), Riscava a Palavra Dor No Quadro Negro (2010), Poesia Revisitada 1995-2010 (2011), Depois da Música (2013), O Vidro (2014), A Noite Imóvel (2017)