Poetry

  • Hugo Mujica
    The poem, the one I long for, / the one I aspire to, / is the one that can be read aloud and go unheard.
  • Adolfo Castañón
    The barking of dogs mixes with the sound of waterunder the dew the peach flowers, darkerIn the depth of the forest a few deer appearNear the brook, at noon, no bell ringsWild bamboo cuts through the g...
  • My grandmother never learned Spanishwas afraid of forgetting her godswas afraid of waking up in the morningwithout the prodigals of her offspring in her memory.
  • Eduardo Langagne
    I have a table. / I can write I have a table. / I have a chair. / I can write I have a chair. / Moreover: / I have ink and paper. / I can write with the ink and on the paper.
  • Tienen hambrey han abiertola boca.
  • Camila Charry Noriega
    the river / courses uphill  / restoring time, / life, / what’s torn down. / But life is a river circling back / and rubble,  / the days’ violence  / where god exists. 
  • Pedro Lastra
    We’ll talk about our youth, / we’ll talk later, dead or alive / with so much time on top of us, / with ghostly years that were not ours / and days that came from the sea and returned / to its profound...
  • Juan Arabia
    I am going to pawn my heart / until it becomes a bird and from it fall / new stars for the world.
  • James Pond
    los que saben dicen sin pelos en la lengua / que un científico no debe fall in love / –suena a Kama Sutra negativo, pero no / with his/her own or, for that matter, / someone else’s theory...
  • Josu Landa
    the lotuses float silent down the riverbank / between the water and the sky / the light in flames / melting the iguana’s eye
  • Jorge Canese
    Discover a nu kontinent or planet name it liquidate its natural owners. The method doesn’t matter katechize the rest for the good and for the bad impose your laws your language your favorite skin and...
  • Ana Enriqueta Terán
    The poetess meets the measure and risk of the stone of speech.
  • Marosa
    When she was born the wolf appeared. It was a Sunday at midday –eleven thirty, brilliant light– and her mother saw through the windowpane, the pointed snout, and in its fur, spikes of frost, and screa...
  • Néstor Mendoza
    Behind the head and the eyes / there is still a little meat. // If you had enough time / between each mouthful / you would count up the bones, / the scales you forgot to peel off.
  • Carlos Martínez Rivas
    “Another young man given over to poetry; a new, true poet—and the sure promise of a great poet; and the battle against the dawn and its obscene noises; and the start of each day, defenseless against t...
  • Olga Orozco
    Here are your keepsakes:this mild blight of violetsfalling uselessly on forgotten days and hours;your name,the persistent name your hand left behind on stones;the familiar tree, its sound always green...
  • Luis Hernández
    What’s that Flower / You have on / Could it be a faded rose / From days gone by
  • Garro
    Although Elena Garro is a well-known and respected Latin American author, she is mostly known for her prose, her novels, and the past political suppression of her work in response to her social activi...
  • Rodolfo Hinostroza
    George: / Does the bird bell reach us?  Does the dream line up / the dead and the resurrected along some sticky walls?
  • Luis Chaves
    We have to start / the decade over again, / the line got twisted.
  • Canto y piedra
    The light, though now tenuous, / is enough to see the faces of some of the regulars. / All are retirees from the great now-dissolved unions, / some others were mercenaries / or illustrious combatants...