Federico Garcia Lorca calls the duende a a savage creative storm, a vibrant energy that “burns the blood like a poultice of broken glass.” Duende is a dark force that smells like baby's spittle. Duende courses through minds and bodies of dancers, singers, artists and poets. If duende magic is successful, the resulting artistic work is always a “radical change in forms.” What is this duende really that it has the power to transfix and transform? Is duende a grotesque muse? Is it animal, vegetable or mineral? Is it bigger than a breadbox?
In Philippine folk mythology, the duende is a mischievous, gnome-like dwarf physically resembling Native Hawaiian menehune of local folklore. Duende—who inhabit people’s homes or large trees, sometimes living underground or in rural areas—are mostly annoying, but if treated with respect can bring good luck. And don’t ever make a duende mad because he/she/it can also be evil or crabby. Duende show themselves at noon for one hour and then engage in mischief making throughout the night. Or so the story goes from my lola and all the other relatives who tried to discourage us children from venturing out into the dark.
So please forgive Self if Self can't erase the image of little midgets swimming in Self's blood, just kind of hanging out in Self's bloody veins. When Self is trying to write a poem, Self succumbs to the "furious enslaving duende." And if all goes well with Self and Self's duende, Self will have written a poem that is a "new marvel that looks like, but is not, the primitive form,” so to speak. What is this duende poetic force realy? Duende is dark, duende is good. Deunde is in your blood. Or in your house. Or in the trees. Or underground. Or in the rural areas. And it's coming to get you! Boo!
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