Poesía en el Writers Place con María, Edward y Xánath
por Xánath Caraza
El pasado viernes, 6 de noviembre, una miríada de palabras abordó nuestras pantallas con la fluidez que crearon María M. Maloney, Edward Vidaurre y la que escribe.
Celebramos la palabra, su fuerza, una amena conversación con el público y Día de muertos 2020 en el Writers Place en Kansas City de manera virtual. Tuvimos casa llena y con el apoyo de Maryfrances Wagner, Steve Holland, y tantos más, la poesía no se hizo esperar.
Hoy, queridos lectores de la Bloga, comparto algunas gotas de poesía que amablemente María y Edward me han hecho llegar. Espero y disfruten los siguientes poemas. ¡Que la poesía nos salve!
My Dead Waiting
by María Miranda Maloney
I pour coffee into a coffee mug we picked
up at Seaworld six years ago, slip a sliver
of cream, cat curls in a knot on a chair
next to me. Who knew one day we would be living
at the hem of rolling hills, a lake nobody wades in— too pretty to sink
our toes into rippling water, ping of golf balls
bounce off the tired trunk of oaks. I do not dare to disturb
your sleep, you’ve worked all night long, at your prison, you say,
open mouth eating at your years, mid drift thick
when you stopped running since there was no more time
left in the day. This dank air sips through
a half-opened window, the desert a memory, my dead waiting
at the altar without a cup of water,
or dia de muertos bread, or sugar skulls.
Ping of golf balls catch the air.
Maria Miranda Maloney is an editor, publisher, educator, and the author of The Lost Letters of Mileva (Pandora Lobo Press 2014 and Yuguru 2019) and The City I Love (Ranchos Press 2011). Her work has appeared in TheBellevue Literary Review, MiPOesias, The Más Tequila Review, Acentos Review, Huizache,The Texas Weather Anthology, Huizache, Progetto 7Lune Poesia, Xispas: Journal of Chicano Art, Culture and Politics, Smithsonian Latino Virtual Museum, The Catholic Reporter, and Texas Review, as well as other national and international journals.She is the founder of Mouthfeel Press. She was born and raised in El Paso, Texas. She has an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Texas at El Paso. She currently lives in east Texas.
“Stop Counting!”
by Edward Vidaurre
A poem written together with my daughter Luisa Vidaurre. 11/05/20
The song of desperation
Holding your phones to a glass
In your Karen-ish shouts
While your water runs muddy
Your train is falling of the rails
The nazi flags are tearing
The Trump signs folding
And your effort to debate
Flawed
“Stop Counting!”
Stop a democratic process?
We can’t hear you!
Now tell me, how does it feel
Having a knee to your neck,
With no one there to hear you?
“Stop Counting!”
All lives matter is a protest
against our protest
200k+ people are dead
Do we stop counting the dead too?
Do they matter?
I can’t stop counting
The bodies keep coming
I can’t stop counting
The children are crying loudly
I can’t stop counting
I cough and sneeze and get scared
I can’t stop counting
My life depends on it
“Stop Counting!”
I count ten trucks
I count ten flags
I count ten middle fingers
Our skin color is a threat
In your country songs
It’s a spicy treat
Count with me
Uno, dos, tres
“Stop Counting!”
No.
All Votes Matter!
Edward Vidaurre is the author of seven collections of poetry. He was the 2018-2019 City of McAllen, Texas Poet Laureate, a four-time Pushcart-nominated poet, and publisher of FlowerSong Press. His writings have appeared in The New York Times, The Texas Observer, Grist, Poet Lore, The Acentos Review, Poetrybay, Voices de la Luna, as well as other journals and anthologies. Vidaurre resides in McAllen, Texas with his wife and daughter.
9.
por Xánath Caraza
Es el dolor de un pueblo
el que se desliza en
la sangre de la tierra.
Acantilados bermejos
contienen la angustia
y las rítmicas palpitaciones.
La gente murmura en las
doradas esquinas de la ciudad,
se desliza la esperanza
con sutileza acuática.
¿dónde están los héroes del agua?
¿dónde las mujeres pez que cantan en la aurora?
¿dónde las ilusiones del nuevo amanecer?
Todo se inunda.
Escurre la lluvia
en los cristales,
de los acantilados
brota el agua densa.
Canta, mujer pez, canta.
9.
by Xánath Caraza, translated by Sandra Kingery
It is the people’s pain
sneaking into
the blood of the land.
Crimson cliffs
contain the anguish
and rhythmic palpitations.
People murmur in the
golden corners of the city,
hope slips away
with aquatic subtlety.
where are the heroes of the water?
where the fish women and their song of first light?
where the illusions of the new dawn?
Everything becomes flooded.
Rain drips
down window panes,
dense water sprouts
from cliffs.
Sing, fish woman, sing.
Xánath Caraza is the author of fifteen collections of poetry, and two short story collections. Caraza has been translated into English, Italian, Romanian, and Greek; and partially translated into Nahuatl, Portuguese, Hindi, and Turkish. For the 2018 International Latino Book Awards, she received First Place for Lágrima rojaand Sin preámbulos/Without Preamble for “Best Book of Poetry in Spanish” and “Best Book Bilingual Poetry”. Syllables of Wind received the 2015 International Book Award for Poetry. She writes for La Bloga, Seattle Escribe, SLC, and Monolito.