Jesús Ramón Vera, The Poet Who Sifts Noise

Norberto Ramirez, director

From the Altiplano to the Page: Jesús Ramón Vera, The Poet Who Sifts Noise

In 2004 I had the privilege of producing a film on Jesús Ramón Vera, a celebrated poet, writer, and devoted comparsero from Salta, Argentina. Vera’s life and work offer a fascinating journey across the cultural frontier of Northwest Argentina, blending high literature with the deep, collective traditions of the Andean highlands.

Director: Norberto N. Ramírez

Producer: Eduardo Montes-Bradley

Cinematography: Alejandro Millán

Editing: Juan Pablo Lepore

Sound: Leonardo Garibaldi

Country: Argentina

Language: Spanish (with English subtitles)

Running Time: 47 minutes

Production: Heritage Film Project / INCAA

Filmed in: Salta, Argentina

The Making of a Poet

Born in Salta in 1958, Vera’s earliest memories are rooted in the rural landscape between Rosario de la Frontera and La Merced, filled with the sounds of bulls and the work of his father, a horse tamer (domador de potros).

His literary journey began early, reading the Brothers Grimm and fairy tales like Hansel and Gretel and Alibaba and the Forty Thieves from the collection Mi Cuna Encantada around age eight or nine. By 13 or 14, he was already attempting to write, motivated partly by boredom and a deep admiration for Pablo Neruda’s imagery.

Vera sees his writing not as an optional pursuit but as his appointed “role and office” within the game of life. He entered formal studies in literature somewhat reluctantly, fearing that systematic learning might “kill the poet.” Instead, much of his real education came through long conversations with poets, musicians (like Dino Saluzzi), and artists in the bars of Salta.

It’s clear he belongs to a special place. Salta is widely regarded as a cradle of poets. The great Enrique Molina once cited Salta and Andalusia as the two most poetic cities he had ever encountered, noting the singular image of General Arenales’ statue in Salta being surrounded by women instead of cannons.

The Path of the Comparsa

For Vera, poetry and the vibrant cultural tradition of the comparsa de indio are inseparable.

The comparsa—a traditional carnival group—is more than just a parade; it represents both a way of life and a mode of cultural resistance. This living tradition integrates various arts, including visual design, dance, and poetry through the regional coplas (folk songs).

Vera emphasizes that the comparsa keeps alive the value of the collective subject over modern individualism. This lesson is embodied in Chiroliano—singing and dancing to raise funds before the parade—where the collected money must be repartido en partes igual (divided equally) among all participants. As Vera notes, this ritual teaches the ethics of community without the need for textbooks.

The atmosphere of the carnival, particularly in the carpas (tents), is a powerful mixture of joy and sorrow, life and death. These spaces are where people hear traditional poetic music—bagualas and vidalas—connecting the present generation to an ancient indigenous substrate (sustrato indígena) that nourishes the poetry of the region.

In essence, the carnival allows everyone to become the artist ten nights in the corso, protagonists in their own society.

The Ocean, the Seashell, and the Noise

How does a writer survive in a world saturated with distractions? Vera offers an extraordinary metaphor for his creative process:

“Poetry is the ocean, and the poem is the seashell with which one hears the sound of that ocean.”

Writing, he explains, is a battle against ruido (noise). Noise manifests as ripio—filler or excess words. His constant process of rewriting and refining (cernir, to sift or strain) serves as a discipline of purification. Vera sees himself as a colador (strainer), filtering through the noise that surrounds and attacks him.

For Vera, images and inspiration come from the unconscious, the onírico (dreamlike). His dreams often bring forth scenes of travel and memory—a train ride, or walking behind his father.

He also insists that poetry and politics are inseparable, for writing is a social act. In one poem dedicated to Ernesto “Che” Guevara, he writes:

“Ser pobre sale caro” — Being poor is expensive.

This vision of writing as an act of social responsibility aligns with his lifelong honesty—knowing one’s limits, and devoting oneself entirely to the journey of creation. As he faces mortality, a companion since his early twenties, Vera remains grounded in the act of estar—being fully present.

Watch the Film

We invite you to watch the complete documentary and experience Jesús Ramón Vera’s voice firsthand.