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The Dreaming Machine

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  • Poetry
    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    This Is Not A Feminist Poem – Wana Udobang (a.k.a. Wana Wana)

    from AFROWOMEN POETRY – Three Poets from Tanzania: Langa Sarakikya, Gladness Mayenga, Miriam Lucas

    The Bitter Bulbs of Trees Growing by the Roadsides of History – Three Poems by Iya Kiva

    The Bitter Bulbs of Trees Growing by the Roadsides of History – Three Poems by Iya Kiva

    What Was Heart Is Now A Scorched Branch – Three Poems by Elina Sventsytska

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    Water: The Longest Tunnel Where the Color Blue Is Born — Four Poems by SHANKAR LAHIRI

    Message to Forough Farrokhzad and other poems – Samira Albouzedi

  • Fiction
    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    BOW / BHUK – Parimal Bhattacharya

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    A Very Different Story (Part II)- Nandini Sahu

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    The Aunt: An Exhilarating Story by Francesca Gargallo

    THE PROGENITOR – Zakir Talukder (trans. from Bengali by Masrufa Ayesha Nusrat)

    Stalks of Lotus – Indrani Datta

    Love in Africa and the Variety of its Declinations:  Short-story Tasting from Disco Matanga by Alex Nderitu

    Love in Africa and the Variety of its Declinations: Short-story Tasting from Disco Matanga by Alex Nderitu

    FLORAL PRINT FLAT SHOES – Lucia Cupertino

    FLORAL PRINT FLAT SHOES – Lucia Cupertino

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    The Red Bananas – N. Annadurai

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    THE CULPRIT – Gourahari Das

  • Non Fiction
    Menstruation in Fiction: The Authorial Gaze – Farah Ahamed

    Menstruation in Fiction: The Authorial Gaze – Farah Ahamed

    Aadya Shakti, or Primal Energy – Lyla Freechild

    Aadya Shakti, or Primal Energy – Lyla Freechild

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    THE TIME HAS COME – Gaius Tsaamo

    THE AMAZONS OF THE APOCALYPSE from “Ikonoklast – Oksana Šačko’: arte e rivoluzione” –  Massimo Ceresa

    THE AMAZONS OF THE APOCALYPSE from “Ikonoklast – Oksana Šačko’: arte e rivoluzione” – Massimo Ceresa

    Plowing the publishing world  – Tribute to Brazilian writer Itamar Vieira, by Loretta Emiri

    Plowing the publishing world – Tribute to Brazilian writer Itamar Vieira, by Loretta Emiri

    Jaider Esbell – Specialist in Provocations, by Loretta Emiri

    Jaider Esbell – Specialist in Provocations, by Loretta Emiri

  • Interviews & reviews
    The mushroom at the end of the world. Camilla Boemio interviews Silia Ka Tung

    The mushroom at the end of the world. Camilla Boemio interviews Silia Ka Tung

    The Excruciating Beauty of Ukrainian Bravery: Camilla Boemio Interviews Zarina Zabrisky on Her Photography Series

    The Excruciating Beauty of Ukrainian Bravery: Camilla Boemio Interviews Zarina Zabrisky on Her Photography Series

    Everything Moves and Everything Is About Relationships. Susan Aberg Interviews Painter Louise Victor

    Everything Moves and Everything Is About Relationships. Susan Aberg Interviews Painter Louise Victor

    Reportage of War and Emotions, the Tour of Three Ukrainian Poets in Italy

    Reportage of War and Emotions, the Tour of Three Ukrainian Poets in Italy

    Videos from worldwide readings in support of Ukrainian writers, September 7, 2022 – Zoom Readings Italy

    Videos from worldwide readings in support of Ukrainian writers, September 7, 2022 – Zoom Readings Italy

    Reportage of War and Emotions, the Tour of Three Ukrainian Poets in Italy

    From Euromaidan: Three Ukrainian poets to spoil Westsplaining fest in Italy – Zarina Zabrisky

  • Out of bounds
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    • Fiction
    • Intersections
    • Interviews and reviews
    • Non fiction
    • Poetry
    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    THE MATERICIST MANIFESTO by AVANGUARDIE VERDI

    Artwork by Mubeen Kishany – Contamination and Distancing

    Glory to the Heroes! Poems by Volodymyr Tymchuk

    Glory to the Heroes! Poems by Volodymyr Tymchuk

    Materials from Worldwide Readings in Solidarity with Salman Rushdie – Bologna Event

    Materials from Worldwide Readings in Solidarity with Salman Rushdie – Bologna Event

    The Shipwreck Saga – Lynne Knight

    Phoenix: Part I – YIN Xiaoyuan

    Surrender to Our Explosive Democracy – Five Poems by Serena Piccoli from “gulp/gasp” (Moria Poetry 2022)

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    Me and French, or What I Did During the Pandemic (Moi et le français, ou Ce que j’ai fais pendant la pandémie) – Carolyn Miller

    Becoming-animal as a Mirror – Ten Animals from Gabriele Galloni’s Bestiary

  • News
    HAIR IN THE WIND – Calling on poets to join international project in solidarity with the women of Iran

    HAIR IN THE WIND – Calling on poets to join international project in solidarity with the women of Iran

    THE DREAMING MACHINE ISSUE N. 11 WILL BE OUT ON DEC. 10

    THE DREAMING MACHINE ISSUE N. 11 WILL BE OUT ON DEC. 10

    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5:  Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5: Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE  FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

  • Home
  • Poetry
    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    This Is Not A Feminist Poem – Wana Udobang (a.k.a. Wana Wana)

    from AFROWOMEN POETRY – Three Poets from Tanzania: Langa Sarakikya, Gladness Mayenga, Miriam Lucas

    The Bitter Bulbs of Trees Growing by the Roadsides of History – Three Poems by Iya Kiva

    The Bitter Bulbs of Trees Growing by the Roadsides of History – Three Poems by Iya Kiva

    What Was Heart Is Now A Scorched Branch – Three Poems by Elina Sventsytska

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    Water: The Longest Tunnel Where the Color Blue Is Born — Four Poems by SHANKAR LAHIRI

    Message to Forough Farrokhzad and other poems – Samira Albouzedi

  • Fiction
    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    BOW / BHUK – Parimal Bhattacharya

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    A Very Different Story (Part II)- Nandini Sahu

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    The Aunt: An Exhilarating Story by Francesca Gargallo

    THE PROGENITOR – Zakir Talukder (trans. from Bengali by Masrufa Ayesha Nusrat)

    Stalks of Lotus – Indrani Datta

    Love in Africa and the Variety of its Declinations:  Short-story Tasting from Disco Matanga by Alex Nderitu

    Love in Africa and the Variety of its Declinations: Short-story Tasting from Disco Matanga by Alex Nderitu

    FLORAL PRINT FLAT SHOES – Lucia Cupertino

    FLORAL PRINT FLAT SHOES – Lucia Cupertino

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    The Red Bananas – N. Annadurai

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    THE CULPRIT – Gourahari Das

  • Non Fiction
    Menstruation in Fiction: The Authorial Gaze – Farah Ahamed

    Menstruation in Fiction: The Authorial Gaze – Farah Ahamed

    Aadya Shakti, or Primal Energy – Lyla Freechild

    Aadya Shakti, or Primal Energy – Lyla Freechild

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    THE TIME HAS COME – Gaius Tsaamo

    THE AMAZONS OF THE APOCALYPSE from “Ikonoklast – Oksana Šačko’: arte e rivoluzione” –  Massimo Ceresa

    THE AMAZONS OF THE APOCALYPSE from “Ikonoklast – Oksana Šačko’: arte e rivoluzione” – Massimo Ceresa

    Plowing the publishing world  – Tribute to Brazilian writer Itamar Vieira, by Loretta Emiri

    Plowing the publishing world – Tribute to Brazilian writer Itamar Vieira, by Loretta Emiri

    Jaider Esbell – Specialist in Provocations, by Loretta Emiri

    Jaider Esbell – Specialist in Provocations, by Loretta Emiri

  • Interviews & reviews
    The mushroom at the end of the world. Camilla Boemio interviews Silia Ka Tung

    The mushroom at the end of the world. Camilla Boemio interviews Silia Ka Tung

    The Excruciating Beauty of Ukrainian Bravery: Camilla Boemio Interviews Zarina Zabrisky on Her Photography Series

    The Excruciating Beauty of Ukrainian Bravery: Camilla Boemio Interviews Zarina Zabrisky on Her Photography Series

    Everything Moves and Everything Is About Relationships. Susan Aberg Interviews Painter Louise Victor

    Everything Moves and Everything Is About Relationships. Susan Aberg Interviews Painter Louise Victor

    Reportage of War and Emotions, the Tour of Three Ukrainian Poets in Italy

    Reportage of War and Emotions, the Tour of Three Ukrainian Poets in Italy

    Videos from worldwide readings in support of Ukrainian writers, September 7, 2022 – Zoom Readings Italy

    Videos from worldwide readings in support of Ukrainian writers, September 7, 2022 – Zoom Readings Italy

    Reportage of War and Emotions, the Tour of Three Ukrainian Poets in Italy

    From Euromaidan: Three Ukrainian poets to spoil Westsplaining fest in Italy – Zarina Zabrisky

  • Out of bounds
    • All
    • Fiction
    • Intersections
    • Interviews and reviews
    • Non fiction
    • Poetry
    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    THE MATERICIST MANIFESTO by AVANGUARDIE VERDI

    Artwork by Mubeen Kishany – Contamination and Distancing

    Glory to the Heroes! Poems by Volodymyr Tymchuk

    Glory to the Heroes! Poems by Volodymyr Tymchuk

    Materials from Worldwide Readings in Solidarity with Salman Rushdie – Bologna Event

    Materials from Worldwide Readings in Solidarity with Salman Rushdie – Bologna Event

    The Shipwreck Saga – Lynne Knight

    Phoenix: Part I – YIN Xiaoyuan

    Surrender to Our Explosive Democracy – Five Poems by Serena Piccoli from “gulp/gasp” (Moria Poetry 2022)

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    Me and French, or What I Did During the Pandemic (Moi et le français, ou Ce que j’ai fais pendant la pandémie) – Carolyn Miller

    Becoming-animal as a Mirror – Ten Animals from Gabriele Galloni’s Bestiary

  • News
    HAIR IN THE WIND – Calling on poets to join international project in solidarity with the women of Iran

    HAIR IN THE WIND – Calling on poets to join international project in solidarity with the women of Iran

    THE DREAMING MACHINE ISSUE N. 11 WILL BE OUT ON DEC. 10

    THE DREAMING MACHINE ISSUE N. 11 WILL BE OUT ON DEC. 10

    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5:  Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5: Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE  FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

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Home Poetry

from “The Quake and the Gust”, poems by Nuria Ruiz de Vinaspre

April 19, 2018
in Poetry, The dreaming machine n 2
Zero: Circle without a Centre – The generation of poets writing in Bengali after 2000, by Aritra Sanyal
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The quake and the gust

I

 

love is orthopedic
because it can be dismantled

 

II

definition of melancholy

 

there is always something you want to have at your side yet it is never there
whatever you do
whatever you decide
always that something fluttering around in its absence
it is as if all those somethings were a flock of birds
no longer part of that still world in which they made their nests

 

III

Love poem or lex talionis

 

write blank books
words are no longer any use
or on the contrary
write books like bombs
and go out and bomb the world

 

IV

i will gather screams for you
screams from generations past that will be our present
and while i tell you this
a plane screams over the house
and launches a wad of birds over a land without leaves

 

V

 

a word is dead when it is said, some say
i say it just begins to live that day

                                           – Emily Dickinson

 

write a poem and wait for it to happen
as though it were a wish made to the ruins of the night
in the waiting is the tremor
in the happening is the gust

for example wait for a traffic light to turn red
stop the car
and write a poem that is about to happen

 

 

VI

 

words do not make love
they make a hole

             – Alejandra Pizarnik

 

when i say how the word always resounds
i mean how the word never resounds
what a wake it leaves behind
what a void is that never
what an echo gust tremor
what nothing in everything
what deafening fear
that never always never

 

 

VII

 

 

all is death inside the vase
a rubbish dump where a child breaks into tears and the breast of the mother breaks
into splinters

 

 

i write that sentence and my thoughts cascade
every breakage is a débâcle
and remember things get broken every day
the afternoon and the tree are bent double
the afternoon breaks what was the day in two
and the tree doubles over with old age
the hours are broken in the doubled afternoons
and we break into sobs to shore up the day
the brush breaks into colors on the canvas
and even the blurred bone breaks in the picture
at a precise moment the smell of a helicopter breaks the blue of the sky
breaking routines in cans and busting brains in madmen
the love affair is broken off and heartbreak bursts into tears
the bud breaks into bloom and the stem doubles over
       all is death inside the vase
the food chain is broken when cows and fish
break up in the mouth before getting to the stomach
      a rubbish dump where a child breaks into tears and the breast of the mother breaks
the tea-bag breaks in the cup
and I break myself at the most heated moments
because every chair breaks in order to be what it was
      splinters

and even these break into flames
because fire corrupts high and wide
everything breaks
books say so and life says so
everything
even language
no breaks a yes and no is always vice versa
everything breaks
the predicate breaks the subject
and as we know the world is inhabited by subjects
everything breaks
waves stones cells houses and the soles of shoes
mothers are broken giving birth to their children
and there are even times when the father breaks that mother
everything breaks
except those rigid frontiers
those confining lines that define limits
which is in itself another débâcle

that is why i wrote forty lines before feeling this phrase
every breakage is a débâcle
because life breaks as it goes on
and because few of the things mentioned here are recoverable
as you can imagine so many débâcles give plenty of food for thought

 

 

 

EXTIMACY

 

 

I

 

lightning on the hill opposite
thunder over the hill behind
between the two
a mute stone

Ko Un

 

i count my cells on the hill opposite
i count my cells on the hill behind
i count those cells in a subway car
and look around me
mute stone with unknown faces
sad unknown faces
i wonder how many cells there are in that subway car
and if one can see other people’s cells from one’s own cells

 

 

II

i don’t know where the tree is bird
and where it is branch
and so with everything

 

 

III

how can it be that after yesterday’s tornado
the world is still in place?
in the house the bed spun
the roof lifted off
yet the tree anchored to the ground
was still out there this morning
imperturbable
can it be that our thoughts are also rooted deeply in our mind?
unmovable?
unmoved by the inclemencies in the square of the brain
how rigid does nature appear at times
although it is precisely this lack of elasticity that gives it the firmness we need

 

 

IV

 

falls
falls
another head falls
the earth’s axis is altered
past memory falls
the acid smell of the city
the rain falls as salt
ink mark
everything falls up from below

 

 

V

 

each day we are more tired
each day a little more dead
less alive
more vivid
less vivid
with more cuts
more fissures
more absences
more cracks through which time can slip
more tall people more black people
more furrows rifts ditches
and behind everything
a guillotining ocean
where death is intimacy
that walks backwards

 

 

VII

 

 

I write, write, write
and I get to nothing, to nobody.

  – Ida Vitale

 

i follow the thread of the thaw
but ice is forgetting
slips of the memory
and i lose the ice and my memory

 


I

 

el amor es ortopédico

porque es susceptible de ser desmontado

 

 

II

 

definición de melancolía

 

siempre hay algo que quieres a tu lado y que no está

hagas lo que hagas

decidas lo que decidas

siempre hay ese algo revoloteando con su ausencia

como si todos esos algo fueran una bandada de pájaros

que ya no están en aquel quieto mundo en el que anidaron

 

 

III

 

Poema de amor o Ley de Talión

 

habría que escribir libros blancos

ya no sirven las palabras

o por el contrario

escribir

libros como bombas

y salir a bombardear el mundo.

 

 

IV

 

recogeré gritos para ti

gritos de generaciones pasadas que serán nuestro presente

y mientras te digo esto

un avión grita sobre la casa

y lanza un fardo de pájaros sobre una tierra sin hojas

 

 

V

algunos piensan que la palabra muere cuando se ha dicho,

yo digo que apenas entonces comienza a vivir

Emily Dickinson

 

escribir un poema y esperar a que acontezca

como si fuera un deseo formulado a las ruinas de la noche

en la espera está el temblor

en el acontecimiento la ráfaga

esperar por ejemplo que un semáforo se ponga en rojo

para detener el coche

y escribir un poema que está a punto de acontecer

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

VI

las palabras no hacen el amor

hacen la ausencia

Alejandra Pizarnik

 

cuando digo cómo retumba la palabra siempre

quiero decir cómo retumba la palabra nunca

qué estela deja tras de sí

qué vacío ese nunca

qué eco ráfaga temblor

qué nada en el todo

qué miedo atronador

ese nunca siempre nunca

 

 

VII

 

todo es muerte dentro del jarrón

vertedero donde un niño rompe a llorar y la madre rompe su pecho

en astillas

 

escribo esta frase y pienso en cascada

toda rotura es una debacle

y fíjense si se rompen cosas al día

se dobla la tarde y el árbol

la tarde rompe en dos lo que fue del día

y el árbol se dobla de viejo

se rompen las horas en las tardes dobladas

y nosotros rompemos en llanto para apuntalar el día

rompe en colores el pincel en el lienzo

y hasta el desdibujado hueso se rompe en el cuadro

el olor de un helicóptero rompe el azul del cielo en una hora exacta

rompiendo rutinas en lata y cabezas en locos

se rompe el amor y el desamor rompe a llorar

se rompe la flor y se dobla su tallo

-todo es muerte dentro del jarrón

la cadena alimenticia se rompe cuando vacas y peces

se rompen en boca hasta llegar al estómago

-vertedero donde un niño rompe a llorar y la madre rompe su pecho

la bolsita del té se rompe en la taza

y yo misma me rompo en las horas altas

porque toda silla se rompe para ser lo que fue

– en astillas

y hasta éstas rompen en fuego

porque el fuego corrompe a lo alto del ancho

y es que todo se rompe

lo dicen los libros y lo dice la vida

todo

hasta el lenguaje

el no rompe al sí y no es siempre viceversa

todo se rompe

el predicado rompe al sujeto

y miren si al mundo lo habitan sujetos

todo se rompe

las olas las piedras las células las casas las suelas de los zapatos

se rompen las madres al parir a sus hijos

y hasta hay veces que el padre rompe a esa madre

todo se rompe

menos las férreas fronteras

las líneas confines con fines limítrofes

lo cual es ya en sí mismo otra debacle

por eso escribí cuarenta líneas antes sentir esta frase

toda rotura es una debacle

porque la vida se rompe en su paso

y porque pocas cosas de las aquí referidas son recuperables

fíjense si tanta debacle da para un debate

 

 

 

———————

 

I

un relámpago en la colina de enfrente

un trueno en la colina de atrás

entre las dos

una piedra muda

Ko Un

 

cuento mis células en la colina de enfrente

cuento mis células en la colina de atrás

cuento esas células en un vagón de metro

y miro a mi alrededor

piedra muda de rostros desconocidos

de tristes rostros desconocidos

me pregunto cuántas células hay en este vagón de metro

si desde la célula de uno mismo se ve la célula del otro

 

 

II

 

yo no sé dónde el árbol es pájaro

y dónde es rama

así todo…

 

 

III

 

¿cómo es posible que tras el tornado de ayer

el mundo siga en su sitio?

que dentro de la casa la cama se girara

y se destapara el techo…

que ese árbol anclado a tierra

permaneciera ahí fuera esta mañana…

imperturbable

¿acaso son así los pensamientos arraigados a la raíz de la mente?

¿inamovibles?

¿inconmovibles a las inclemencias en la escuadra del cerebro?

qué rígida parece a veces la naturaleza

aunque esa falta de elasticidad le da justo la firmeza que nos falta

 

 

IV

 

cae

cae

otra cabeza cae

el eje en tierra se altera

cae la memoria pasada

el ácido olor de la ciudad

cae la lluvia en sal

la tinta la huella

todo cae de abajo arriba

 

 

V

 

cada día estamos más cansados

cada día un poco más muertos

menos vivos

más vividos

menos vívidos

con más cortes

más fisuras

más ausencias

más rendijas por donde se escurre el tiempo

más altos y más negros

más surcos grietas zanjas

y detrás de todo

un océano que guillotina

donde la muerte es la intimidad

que camina hacia atrás

 

 

VI

 

cuelgan de las cuerdas de la del quinto

dos filas alargadas de prendas huecas

-fiel cordel este tendal que sostiene los calcetines de la hija muertalos

trajes de sus pies dormidos ardían como banderas negras

falsificando un viento con olor a ropa viva

pero aquella lluviosa tarde

-elevadas con el dolor del látigolas

lágrimas de las cuerdas de la del quinto

saltaron a las del cuarto

como una lluvia mecida por prendas de acero

entonces

estalló

la

guerra

y se detuvo el viento

los calcetines se precipitaron

hacia el suelo de la realidad

ahí entendió la de cuarto

que la hija de la del quinto

había muerto

los tendales son síntomas de vida

indicios de muerte

 

a Firas Sulaiman

 

 

VII

Escribo, escribo, escribo

y no conduzco a nada, a nadie.

Ida Vitale

 

sigo el hilo del deshielo

pero el hielo es el olvido

me resbala la memoria

y pierdo el hielo y la memoria

 

Poet and publisher, Nuria Ruiz de Vinaspre works as editor in the Anaya Group and directs the Eme Collection (Writing for Women in Spanish), by La Palma Publishing. In 2004 she won the XX Prize of Poetry City of Tudela (Navarra) and in 2014 was awarded with the Cluster Award 2014 of Literature. In 2015 she won the XII César Simón Poetry Prize with her latest work, La zanja (The Ditch.) She has also published the following titles: El mar de los suicidas (The Sea of the Suicides), Desvaríos subterráneos (Underground Ravings), El campo de tus sueños rojos (The Field of Your Red Dreams), Ahora que el amor se me instala (Now that love settles me), La geometría del vientre (The Geometry of the Belly), El pez místico (The Mystic Fish), Tablas de carnicero (Butcher Boards), Órbita cementerio (Cemetery Orbit), Tabula Rasa (Tabula Rasa), and Pensatorium (Pensatorium).

 

Featured image: Foto by Aritra Sanyal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tags: languageNuria Ruiz de VinasprePoetrySpain

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