El tiempo está cambiando : Nueva poesía española

Spanish poets born in the 1990s are coining new tropes while reformulating or challenging inherited ones. Christianity has made a surprise comeback, love poems (often with a queer sensibility) have been updated, and philology continues to play its games with culture itself. Uninhibited, restless, and more or less free, they have borne the brunt of precariousness and encountered a more hostile urban landscape; they have also deeply contemplated their vocation, the working world, drugs, sex, and travel. Whether experimental or hendecasyllabic, torrential or laconic, what characterizes them is a certain self-aware—and generally joyful (sometimes openly comic)—eclecticism, along with remarkable diversity within this group: twenty-seven poets aged twenty-five to thirty-five who have brought a renewed feminism, a touch of "neo-Novísimo" culturalism, and occasional flashes of madness to Spanish-language poetry—an enlightened wildness, a cheerful focus on the present, and a hedonism that champions friendship. There is no disappointment here, only restlessness: solid intellectual training, a bleak future, and no actual children, all within a context where they are forced to pay more attention to IKEA than to swifts (though those are present too), and to focus more on Netflix than on cherry blossoms. This first generation of Spanish-language poets to debut in the twenty-first century arrives with new themes and forms—and, most importantly, with a timeless quality and the same measure of natural talent as ever. They refuse to be run over; if anything, *they* would be the ones doing the running over. And they aren't particularly fond of being anthologized.