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El amor, como nos diria Leon Bloyd acerca de la belleza, tambien es un monstruo. En este poemario, que es un poema-rio, surca como obsesion el monstruo del amor desgarrando el arbol de la vida , el drama del hombre que ya no puede mirar las manos de Dios. Si para Rubens, el color rojo intenso sobre fondo de blancos plomos fue el instrumento para mostrar toda la fuerza telurica de la pasion entre Sanson y Dalila, para Julio Antonio Molinete sus armas de guerra son las que construyeron la historia que sirve de base al poema: los versiculos. Aqui fluyen con secreta autoridad, con la calma llena de jirones que sucede a la tormenta y nos deja en cada pagina versos rotundos como ven a mi, que la muerte me hara hombre/y ella tiene la forma de mis manos . Con este libro, el autor se aleja de los cauces gastados de la poesia cubana actual, de su coloquialismo en harapos y de la marginalidad de un tiempo destinado a morir.
Love, as Leon Bloyd tells us about beauty, is also a monster. In this book of poetry, which is a river-poem, the monster of love tearing apart the tree of life plows through obsessively, the drama of the man who can no longer look at the hands of God. If, for Rubens, the intense red color on the background of lead whites demonstrated all of passion’s terrestrial force between Samson and Delilah, for Julio Antonio Molinete, his weapons of war are those that built the story serving as the basis of the poem: verses. Here, they flow with secret authority, with the calm full of shreds following the storm. Every page leaves us with resounding verses like Come to me, so that death will make a man of me, / and she takes the form of my hands. With this book, the author moves away from the worn channels of current Cuban poetry, from its colloquialism in rags and the marginality of a time destined to die.
