Poet

Immediate Release. Collected Poems by Gary Beck. Rude Awakenings

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Rude Awakenings is a 112 page poetry collection. Available in paperback with a retail price of $11.99. ISBN 1941058809, and a kindle edition for $4.99. Published by Winter Goose Publishing. Available now through all major retailers. For information or to request a review copy, contact:jessica@wintergoosepublishing.com
 

 
Amazon.com
 
 
Can an artist achieve the American dream without compromising creativity? Can lovers navigate the search of their desires while mourning the loss of past connection? And if the disillusioned accept our world of empty promises, don’t we all lose when that fire burns out? Poet Gary Beck masterfully approaches serious questions of human integrity, as well as the small odd moments our realities may share, in his brilliant new collection, Rude Awakenings.
 
We love your poems – Orchards Poetry
 
Wonderful work – Panoplyzine
 
Imagery and emotion that felt unique yet universal – Paradise Review
 
Featured Poems from Rude Awakenings:
 
i.
 
Faded
 
Dim flame dying
like a senile candle,
a flickering old woman,
crinkled fingers drooping
from large jeweled rings
as she sobs in septic sleep
that no lover’s steps
tread the midnights
of her bedroom.
 
ii.
 
Pilgrim
 
Leaving my land, place, roots,
another strange American
dazed with hungers,
breakfast cereal anticipations
for change, glory, just enough lust
to risk Moloch-belly flames
licking fire at asbestos bones,
spinning and circling a torturous orbit
returning me to beginnings,
stubborn, ruthless, orphan greedy,
playing no more rhymes on my toes, Granpa,
past twiddling, caring about rag clad dreams,
leaving me shivering for survival
from frostbite of vindictive atoms
unseen in the bustling commotion
in the churning harbor of unrest.
 
iii.
 
Two Refrains
 
For in darkness women came
and carried his body away.
The children by the shore of the lake
picked up his bones and followed the barge
and shrieked of the games they’d play the next day.
 
And while the children reveled
greed, our god, cloyed our senses
and ignorance, the priest,
drugged our minds,
leaving us stranded
on confusion’s shore.
 
 
 
 

 
 
Gary Beck has spent most of his adult life as a theater director, and as an art dealer when he couldn’t make a living in theater. He has 12 published chapbooks and 2 accepted for publication. His poetry collections include: Days of Destruction (Skive Press), Expectations (Rogue Scholars Press). Dawn in Cities, Assault on Nature, Songs of a Clerk, Civilized Ways, Displays, Perceptions, Fault Lines, Tremors and Perturbations (Winter Goose Publishing) Rude Awakenings and The Remission of Order will be published by Winter Goose Publishing. Conditioned Response (Nazar Look). Resonance (Dreaming Big Publications). Virtual Living (Thurston Howl Publications). Blossoms of Decay (Wordcatcher Publishing). Blunt Force and Expectations will be published by Wordcatcher Publishing. His novels include: Extreme Change (Cogwheel Press), Flawed Connections (Black Rose Writing), Call to Valor (Gnome on Pigs Productions) and Sudden Conflicts (Lillicat Publishers). State of Rage will be published by Rainy Day Reads Publishing, Crumbling Ramparts by Gnome on Pigs Productions. His short story collections include, A Glimpse of Youth (Sweatshoppe Publications) and. Now I Accuse and other stories (Winter Goose Publishing). His original plays and translations of Moliere, Aristophanes and Sophocles have been produced Off Broadway. His poetry, fiction and essays have appeared in hundreds of literary magazines. He currently lives in New York City.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (Leeds University)

Tom Raworth. The Holloway Series of Poetry. Video Poetry

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Tom Raworth was a UK poet died 2017 he owed much of his influence in Language Poetry to contemporary movements in the USA, where he spent a considerable portion of his life. Editors note.
 
 
Tom Raworth is a London-based poet and visual artist whose many works include Ace (1974), West Wind (1984), Visible Shivers (1987), Eternal Sections (1993), Survival (1994), Clean & Well Lit (1996), and Let Baby Fall (2008); his Collected Poems was published by Carcanet in 2003.
 
 


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (Leeds University) .

The Whale. Leviathan. Video Poem. Sonnet by Norman Ball. Read by Ed Gero

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This is a sonnet from my 2001 collection ‘Return to One: A Sonnet Odyssey’, and the section ‘The Whale, the Bull and the Lightbringer’. DC Shakespeare Theatre’s Ed Gero is the reader. I’ve often wondered if Man’s excessive cruelty towards the whale goes beyond mere commerce. Is there something even more fundamental at play, a jealousy perhaps?
(Norman Ball)
 
 

 
 
Leviathan, what coaxed you back to sea?
Did premonition sour you to the land?
Perhaps you saw the vex of history
and, wisely, chose a watery remand.
Awkward, we Fell; you sank to cooler climes,
your massive girth played foil to Yahweh’s glare.
We battled seas; you swam to rhythmic tides
while sailors scrimshawed biblical despairs.
We’ve harpooned all pretense at gentle neighbor
reserving special violence for your end.
Nor does predation justify these labors.
No, cruelty masks an envious intent:
we fend alone on this terrestrial stage;
no depths too deep to plunge our jealous rage.
 
 

NORMAN BALL

 

(BA Political Science/Econ, Washington & Lee University; MBA,George Washington University) is a well-travelled Scots-American businessman, author and poet whose essays have appeared in Counterpunch,The Western Muslim and elsewhere. His new book  “Between River and Rock:How I Resolved Television in Six Easy Payments”   is available here.
 
Two essay collections, “How Can We Make Your Power More Comfortable?” and  “TheFrantic Force” are spoken of  here and here, respectively.
 
A collection of poetry  Serpentrope  was published early 2014 from White Violet Press. He can be reached at a returntoone@hotmail.com.
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (Leeds University) .

 

Press Release. Aquillrelle’s Anthology Wall7.

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The Aquillrelle Wall of Poetry Members Anthology, book seven ©2018
 
Friends, poets,
 
Aquillrelle’s Anthology Wall7 is now released and published in both Ebook/PDF and Paper formats. It can be purchased on Lulu (and a couple of months from now also on Amazon, etc.).
 
Many thanks to the participants and to the supporters, it was hard yet gratifying work. Enjoy your (and your friends’) art!
 
The seventh wall. Some graffiti. Some works of art. Even some smudges included since they hold a message to be heard. Because this is the essence of every Aquillrelle wall – let everyone who values his/her word get a piece of the wall to themselves. You, the readers, are the beneficiaries. Read!
 
 
 
The poem included below is an excerpt from the above reviewed anthology
 
Elliptical Shift by Robin Ouzman Hislop
 
 
Meadows of wild flowers
sweet in an urban niche
framed by a hand of nostalgia
framed in an enclosure
 
for the price of pathos
riots of the human race
rampage across its space
in resistance, resentment
 
everywhere history obscures the view
 
an enigmatic phantom
it projects its rapacious plans onto tomorrow
McDonald’s signs, stewards of the planet, protein signifier
 
regularities merge into a wholeness
the news comes on, in a refrain of the same monotone
as if the world were made new again.
 
*
 
The darkest regions of the planet’s mind
the photon of a star in a formless moment
becomes an instance of a memory
as the desert invites the ripple
to a turbulence of refrain
a window frame constrains
its world view to all that follows on
 
as if it could choose between what’s real
what’s imaginary
 
such choices, shape our view
to the now, before an open future
 
*
 
sunset on the high street, traffic
vanishing into it like black dots
whizzing out of the blind, the zonk
plonk, disappearing into its shadow
 
dust of ages, its record
 
all the particles cascading
into the horizon’s viewpoint
all the bits, pieces in their parts
blowing on the horizon’s sunset
 
Time is not the shadow cast by the world
the world is the shadow cast by time
 
(excerpt from All the Babble of the Souk)
 
 
To order: http://www.lulu.com/shop/Aquillrelle/The Aquillrelle-Wall of Poetry Book Seven/paperback/
 
e-book: http://www.lulu.com/shop/Aquillrelle/The Aquillrelle Wall of Poetry Book Seven/ebook/
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (Leeds University) .

 

Spike. Poem excerpt from Cartoon Molecules by Robin Hislop

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A runaway on a Singularity slippery slope need not be a despairingly
Sisyphean slide back but spike upward to an extremely great verticality
allowing something relatively harmless today start a trend that results
in something currently unthinkable a – Pandorean pandemonium
 
still he didn’t want to kill himself and his crew so he hatched a plan
that systems possessing the same patterns of causal organization will instantiate
the same types of conscious states irrespective of whether the organization
is implemented in neurons – silicon – plastic or any other substrate
 
taken to its heart we would vanish into its stronger existence – do the angels
really only take back what is theirs – what has streamed out of them – or is there
sometimes – as if by oversight something of our being as well? – do we not see
the swirling return to ourselves (how should we see it?) the world today being
as it is a vast unsupervised laboratory – in which a multitude of experiments
are simultaneously under way
 
brain-computer interfaces have already left the laboratory which allows gamers
to interact directly with their consoles – a high resolution neuro-signal
acquisition and processing wireless neuroheadset uses a set of sensors to tune
into electric signals produced by the brain to detect player thoughts feelings
and expressions and connects wirelessly to most PCs’ — all this for only $299!
 
partly this is because we cannot agree on what such purposes are – and even if
we were to – suddenly he knew that when he heard the music he would be unable
to resist steering toward the island’s rocks – the problem wasn’t the present
rational Ulysses – but instead the future illogical Ulysses – the person he’d become
when the Sirens came within earshot
 
but that is the gods’ affair – if only we too could discover a pure contained – human
place – a strip of fruitful land of our own – between river and stone!- for our own heart
exceeds us – the curve of the graph grows exponentially steeper – until that spike is
the Singularity – beyond the veil of the opaque wall – the unthinkable – the horizon
of the final dawn looms – lanced on the spear of the terrible angel.
 
 
After Rainer Maria Rilke. Duino Elegies
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (Leeds University) .

 

Next Arrival. A Poem by Robin Ouzman Hislop

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                                         we invent them to serve us      controlling our existence 
                                                  to create virtual worlds with hells and heavens 
                                                                  myths domesticate science 

                                                     fiction and reality blur shaping our reality

                                      an assembly of biochemical algorithms flash fade flash fade 

                                                                                    spinning 

                                                   epidemic is business     economy grows
                                               human experience             as any other item 
                                          in the supermarket                  a designable product
                                   intelligence mandatory               consciousness optional 
                                                                  individuals = dividuals
                                                                      in carbon or silicon

                                                                    owned by imaginary gods
                                           who   what     you are    how to turn you    on and off
                                                                                beyond control
                                                                                       beyond
                                                                              the opaque wall
                                                                algorithms can command empire 
                                                           or an upper class ruling the planet
                                                     if words could make dreams come true
                                             a simultaneous instant in the brain of seven billion
                                        emerges the beautiful androgynous face of the serial killer

                                                                  wheat eater    bread winner 

                                                                          & the deluge of data

                                              millions of nano-robots coursing humankind's veins 
                                                                       an Orwellian police state 
                                                                                       splits into 
                                                                 the chosen hi-tech Noah’s Ark
                                                               a new religion information flow 

                                                                                      datism 

                                                                      to merge or not to merge 
                                                  the human genome as a digital processor 
                                                                    where overwhelming data 

                                                    garbles the message in dystopian double talk

                                                                    will the defeaters prevail 
                                                            or cometh utopia from outer space
                                                                 our post human descendants

                                                          do as you would be done by datism 
                                                 as we condemned the mammoth to oblivion 
                                                                          your every action 
                                 but where no human      can follow     or need to understand 
                                                  in the matrix    the inter net      of all things 

                                                                where has the power has gone
                                                             the cosmic data God draweth nigh 
                                                                               the great flow
                                             to maximise    to plug you in      voters of the world unite 
                                                             a colossus astride this narrow world 

                                                                                  free market 
                                                                                  big brother
                                                              watches over every breath you take
                                                              invisible hand that flies in the night

                                                                 between laboratory & museum
                                                                    voice of a million ancestors
                                                                a ripple in the cosmic data flow
                                                    shifts homo centric view       to data centric view 

                                                        knowing us better than we know ourselves

                                                                                            forager
                                                       scavenger of carrion       follower in fear & flight
                                                                                        big brained 
                                                               Neanderthal Denisovan Sapient 
                                                             what drove you for 2 million years 
                                                                                          a big bum? 

                                                                                        what bound 
                                                     small divergent groups of differing tongue & taboo
                                                                   into the framework of humankind
                                                                                         but fiction 
                                                                collective myths woven into our reality 
                                                                       from money to the nation state 
                                                                                      imprisoned 
                                                                                 by the archetypes 
                                   we've identified them with            a virtual reality of cartoon molecules

*


after Yuvah Noah Harari
Sapient & Homo Deus

Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo  visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author.  See Robin performing his work Performance (Leeds University) .




			


					
			





	

					

				
An Orderly Parade. A Video Poem by Antonio Martínez Arboleda
		

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Antonio_Martínez_Arboleda  Antonio began his career in language teaching at the Instituto Cervantes and the University of Leeds in 1998. One year later he introduced his module on Spanish Politics (‘Spain: Political Decentralisation –El Estado de las Autonomías– and Integration into Europe’) and started to teach Spanish in an Economic and Business context.


Antonio is involved in a variety of artistic activities including poetry (Transforming with Poetry, 100,000 Poets for Change and Poesía Indignada), poetry translation and music. He is the author of the book of poems Los viajes de Diosa (The Travels of Goddess) (2015, Diego Marín) and directed the video collection of Spanish poetry Las flechas de Artemis (The Arrows of Artemis) in 2016. 

			


					
			





	

					

				
Sur Mama and other Poems by Luz Pichel Translated from Castellano and Gallego
		

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Editor’s Note: although we include the originals in this text, to introduce the poems of Luz Pichel, she is a Galician poet, a region in Spain with its own language (Gallego) which although bears similarities to Spanish (Castellano) is strikingly different. Luz Pichel mixes both languages in her work, but we as translators, have translated both into English, (apart from the little French ditty On The Bridge of Avignon in the first poem) hence the footnotes will often indicate the original Gallego scripts in the texts.


(1.)


the south mama maría


i did not take you to the south     nor to the southern station      so you could see     floor 0

floor 1    floor 2      the general view 1       prices maps tickets tours

southern pages      news      the such a pretty cross


I have to go one summer with you to the heavens to see the southern

cross mama

the south in all the languages of the world      your name

mother in all the stars      in all

the ways of milk

in our lovely rude tongue mother 2

south in french listen well        sur la table 3


a girl opened on the sacrificial table 4


sur le pont d’avignon

l’on y danse         l’on y danse 


sur-face

what do they make?

who makes the south?

who builds the south?

who profits from the south?

who profits? 5


les beaux messieurs font comme ça

et puis encore comme ça

(bang bang bang

a piggy gesture)

sur le sable 6      the cobra of fear crawled

on the sand he left engraved his     SS


the general view mama        these will be the plots of memory

l’on y dance tous en rond


les militaires font comme ça

(bang, bang bang

a homicide     a child)

et puis comme ça

les beaux messieurs e les militaires


the building of the south mama patricia mare mâe 7

our south their south les belles dames


les belles dames dansent

elles font comme ça

et puis encore comme ça


the south mama eva mamá álvaro rafa         guadalupe        francisca

rosalía     alfonsina     federico   emily  luis

chámase mamá manuel

mamá manuela/

where your migrant shins       grew

skinny on the sacrificial table 8


one day we will go all together there to the south mamai

they still have to see us dance on the cobra’s SS

e puis encore 9    dance

we’re all going to be prima ballerinas mama

noelina


the musicians will do like this like this like this

and still again if it is the case like this another time / comme ça 10


**

vista xeral 1

na nosa lingua ruin bonita nai 2

on the table 3

sobre da mesa do sacrificio abríase a rapaza aquela 4

que fan?

quen fai o sur?

quen constrúe o sur? quen aproveita o sur?

quen se aproveita? 5

on the sand 6

mother mama 7

onde medraron as túas canelas migratorias

fracas na tabla do sacrificio 8

and then again 9

e os músicos farán así e así e así

e despois aínda si es caso outra vez así/ comme ça 10


(1.)


el sur     mamá maría


al sur no te he llevado     ni a la estación del sur      para que vieras     planta 0

planta 1         planta 2     vista xeral      los precios los mapas los tickets los recorridos las

páginas      del sur         las noticias         la cruz  tan guapa


he de ir un verano contigo al cielo a ver la cruz del sur mam

el sur en todas las linguas do mundo         tu nombre

de madre     en todas las estrellas     en todas

las vias de la leche     para que veas

na nosa lingua ruín bonita nai

sur en francés escucha bien         sur la table


sobre da mesa do sacrificio abríase a rapaza aquela


sur le pont d’avignon

l’on y danse         l’on y danse


sur–face

que fan?

quen fai o sur?

quen constrúe o sur? quen aproveita o sur?

quen se aproveita?


les beaux messieurs font comme ça

et puis encore comme ça 

(bang bang bang

un gesto guarro)

sur le sable se arrastraba la cobra del miedo

sobre la arena dejaba grabadas     sus eses


vista general mama           estas serán las eras de la memoria

l’on y dance tous en rond


les militaires font comme ça

(bang, bang bang

un homicidio     un niño)

et puis comme ça

les beaux messieurs e les militaires


construcción del sur mamá patricia mare mâe

el nuestro el de ellas les belles dames


les belles dames dansent

elles font comme ça

et puis encore comme ça


o sur mamá eva mamá álvaro rafa         guadalupe        francisca

rosalía     alfonsina     federico   emily  luis

chámase mamá manuel

mamá manuela/

onde medraron as túas canelas          migratorias

fracas na  tabla do sacrificio


un día vamos a ir todas juntas allá hasta el sur   mamai   para que sepas

aún nos han de ver danzar sobre la ese de la cobra e puis encore danzar

vamos a ser todas unas bailarinas de primera mamá noelina


e os músicos farán así e así e así

e despois aínda si es caso outra vez así/ comme ça


(2.)


I give you a herb

you said

inside a letter


take this leaf grandma I found it

it has dust

her name is luz  1


a tiny green thread an oval drawing

and the moon rolling down a rock

smell of orange blossom


this is called orange he said it is something to eat

I bought it at the cattle fair for you


a chick being hatched is not easy either

if there is no ear of wheat

if there is no waiting

if there is no space


some when they are hatched their roost is spoiled

they go


luz      but the leaf       has nerves covered

in dust but

do not then get confused      but blow


the woman picked up an ear of wheat from the ground

an ear of wheat has little flour but

it will make sense


orange falls the moment you passed by

it rolls       smells


I wanted to make a simple thing to give you

to give them

to give you

to make an old age

a death even

a thing like the spiral peel of an orange

unspoiled

(unlike the pedros´ baby girl

who came badly)

sometimes the peel is torn


take      luz       an orange look I found it in the air

and luz is not luz either

neither is a leaf that falls

– hayu hayuná hayunaí there! (someone celebrates something)


a woman on the door step gazes out

to far far away

her name was orange         she peeled well        she came out unspoiled

she had been learning simply to fall

in a spiral       on herself


1. Light.


(2.)


te regalo una hierba

dijiste

dentro de una carta


toma esta hoja abuela la encontré

tiene polvo

se llama luz


un hilito verde un dibujo ovalado

y la luna rodando por una roca

olor a azahar


esto se llama naranja dijo es cosa de comer

en la feria la compré para ti


un pollito naciendo tampoco es fácil

si no hay espiga

si no hay espera

si no hay espacio


algunos cuando nacen se les rompe la casa

se van


luz pero      la hoja tiene los nervios       cubiertos

de polvo entonces

pero no confundirse           pero soplar


la mujer recogía del suelo una espiga de trigo

una espiga de trigo poquita harina tiene pero

tendrá sentido


naranja cae en el momento en que tú pasabas por allí

rueda          huele


yo quería hacer una cosa sencilla para darte

para darles

paro daros

hacer una vejez

una muerte incluso

una cosa así como la piel en espiral de una naranja

cuando se logra entera

(la niña de los de pedro no se logró tampoco

venía mal)

a veces se desgarra la piel


toma luz una naranja mira la encontré en el aire

y luz tampoco es luz

tampoco es una hoja que cae

— ¡hayú hayuná hayunaí allá! (alguien celebra algo)


una mujer en el umbral se asoma al otro lado

mira desde muy muy lejos

se llamaba naranja         pelaba bien          salía entera

había ido aprendiendo a caer sencillamente

en espiral           sobre sí misma


(3.)


Babe       take flowers to Chekhov´s grave

take        a little branch

if you go to russia one day       do that

you go and take flowers        but there

when you grow up

a seagull         at a beach       give her flight

so when you go to russia you ask

do you know where´s          Chekhov´s grave

it must have a painted         sea bird


he went cold


she was the apple of his        eye

she closed his eyes

wide open           like

portals of a house                 without people

like a hot cross bun she crossed his eyelids

and she said to herself        said      told herself

I´ll go dad      I´ll go             leave

in peace

I ´ll go

even if it rains


then        the little one put four

slices

of bread inside a bag

a small bottle of water        only four of bread only

´cos it would get hard         inside a bag

she started walking            into the hill

without anyone seeing her

´cos it was not proper         to wait to grow up

to go and put some flowers                over a

grave in russia


(3.)


nena       llévale flores a la tumba de chejov

llévale      un ramito

si vas a rusia un día tú        lo haces

vas y le llevas flores            pero allá

cuando seas grande

una gaviota         en una playa         échala a volar

después vas a rusia            preguntas

usted sabrá dónde             la tumba de chejov

debe de tener pintado un                pájaro marino


se quedó


ella era la niña de los ojos               de él

le cerró los ojos

que los tenía                      así

portales de una casa                      sin gente

le hizo la cruz del pan                    sobre los párpados

y se dijo a sí misma          dijo       dijo para sí

he de ir papá                    he de ir                 marcha tranquilo

he de ir

aunque llueva


entonces                        la pequeña              cuatro rebanadas

de pan en una bolsa

botellita de agua           sólo cuatro de pan sólo

que se iba a poner duro                                 en una bolsa

echó a andar                 monte adentro

sin que la viera nadie

pues no era del caso                                      esperar a ser grande

para ir a poner unas flores                             encima de una

tumba en rusia


(4.)


harriet tubman was born araminta ross

maria was born agnieszka

norma was born conchita

fernán was born cecilia

pocahontas was born matoaka

álvaro was born álvar

raphaël was born rafita

hypatia of alexandria was born a martyr

annika was born anita

rachael was born raquel

andrzej naceu 1 andrés

christine was born george

carla was born carlos

lucas naceu lilia

mary shelley was born mary godwin

dolly naceu dolly non saíu / she never left

the roslin institute


1. was born


(4.)


harriet tubman nació araminta ross

maría nació agnieszka

norma nació conchita

fernán nació cecilia

pocahontas nació matoaka

álvaro nació álvar

raphaël nació rafita

hypatia de alejandría nació mártir

annika nació anita

rachael nació raquel

andrzej naceu andrés

christine was born george

carla nació carlos

lucas naceu lilia

mary shelley nació mary godwin

dolly naceu dolly non saíu / no salió nunca

del roslin institute


(5.)


harriet tubman       rests her head        lays it


on the train track       and sleeps      she leads ahead      because she knows languages ​​understands the signs     bears the beatings      knows the underground rail ways and sees what cannot be seen      and dreams what cannot be dreamt     next to harriet       all the others sleep      over the track     non return trips are long    forests are very scary bugs and smugglers are very scary    some countries are far too far they are so far away      some mornings never reach a train    station    never never arrive     they pass by    in the darkness things look like bundles      the ones who move carrying linen bags or with a little old lady on their  shoulders      they look like wolves     mist     on her palm a woman has written a verse in orange ink       the train track is not a cosy pillow       the cold doesn´t let you keep your ideas safe      sleep and dream      the message read      the deeper the dream     the farther it takes you     little foreigner


(5.)


descansa a cabeza harriet tubman póusaa


na vía do tren     e dorme     ela vai por diante     porque sabe linguas     entende os letreiros     aguanta os paus / los palos     coñece os camiños de ferro sub da terra     e ve o que non se ve   e soña o que non se soña     a caronciño / a la vera de harriet     as outras dormen todas     sobre da vía     as viaxes sen retorno fanse largas     as fragas / bosques meten moito medo meten medo os bichos e os estraperlistas     algúns países están lonxe de máis /  quedan tan tan lejos       algunhas mañás / mañanas non chegan nunca á estación dun tren /  no llegan nunca nunca   pasan na escuridade as cousas semellan vultos     os que se moven cargando con sacos de liño / lino ou cunha velliña ao lombo / una viejecita sobre los hombros       semellan lobos      néboa /  niebla        na man aberta ten escrito a muller un verso con tinta de cor laranxa      a vía do tren non é unha almofada xeitosa / una almohada agradable no es la vía de un tren      o frío non permite acomodar as ideas sen perigo / peligro      durme e soña  dicía a mensaxe      o soño canto máis fondo máis lonxe te leva / más lejos te transporta         extranxeiriña

 

 

Translations Amparo Arróspide & Robin Ouzman Hislop

 

 

Bio Photo. Luz Pichel & Amparo Arróspide. November 2017. Madrid.

 

 



 

 

Luz Pichel was born in 1947 in Alén (Lalín, Pontevedra), a tiny village in Galicia. Alén means “beyond” and also means “the beyond”. There she learned to speak in a language that could die but does not want to. Those who speak that language think that it is always others those who speak well.


She is the author of the poetry books El pájaro mudo (1990, City of Santa Cruz de la Palma Award), La marca de los potros  (2004, XXIV Latin American poetry prize Juan Ramón Jiménez),  Casa pechada (2006, Esquío Poetry Award ), El pájaro mudo y otros poemas (2004), Cativa en su lughar / Casa pechada (2013), Tra (n) shumancias (2015) and Co Co Co Ú (2017).

Part of her work Casa pechada was translated into English and Irish in the anthological book To the winds our sails: Irish writers translate Galician poetry, Salmonpoetry, 2010, ed. Mary O’Donnell & Manuela Palacios.


Neil Anderson translated into English Casa pechada. Several poems appeared in his blog (re) voltas; July, 2014.


Several poems from Casa pechada appeared in the American magazines SALAMANDER, No. 41, year 2015, and PLEIADES, vol. 36, Issue 2, p. 117, year 2016, in English translation by Neil Anderson.

 

 

Amparo Arróspide (born in Buenos Aires) is an M.Phil. by the University of Salford. As well as poems, short stories and articles on literature and films in anthologies and international magazines, she has published five poetry collections: Presencia en el Misterio, Mosaicos bajo la hiedra, Alucinación en dos actos y algunos poemas, Pañuelos de usar y tirar and En el oído del viento. The latter is part of a trilogy together with Jacuzzi and Hormigas en diaspora, which are in the course of being published. In 2010 she acted as a co-editor of webzine Poetry Life Times, where many of her translations of Spanish poems have appeared, she has translated authors such as Margaret Atwood, Stevie Smith and James Stephens into Spanish, and others such as Guadalupe Grande, Ángel Minaya, Francisca Aguirre, Carmen Crespo, Javier Díaz Gil into English. She takes part in poetry festivals, recently Centro de Poesía José Hierro (Getafe).

 

 

Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo  visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author.  See Robin performing his work Performance (Leeds University) .


 

			


					
			



		
				

	


	

	







			
		



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