Poesía en el Writers Place con María, Edward y Xánath

 

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 The Bellevue 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 roja and 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.