Poems from México by Mariángel Gasca Posadas.

06 September 2019
Author :  
Mariángel Gasca Posadas. Agua Dulce, Veracruz, México. Poet, essayist, translator, craftswoman and cultural manager. Teacher normalist, BENM. Mediator of Reading Rooms of PNSL. His texts have been published in their books of poems, in addition to 1 epistolary and 17 anthologies, supplements and cultural magazines published in África, Spain, Italy, Colombia, Perú, Chile, Bolivia, USA and México. Founder of the rock band "El paraje de los lobos", with young exconvicts, 1989. Creator and general director of the International Reading Festival "Agua Dulce caracola", 2012, 2015 and 2018.
Moon of blood
On having restarted the codes of the memory,
I discover the prologue previous to me itself.
There, after naming to love, I stay
as an immobile scenario that marvels
in the Universe. In this atmosphere
of dazzle, already I am not any more
only the other one that reads me
-interrogante anxiety that travel through my shores-.
Storm in calm. Calm in the storm.
Join extremes without being and without being,
as claw detached from the flesh
in front of his mirror fountain: Moon of blood,
torch between my fingers what stain
the fresh paper with his lips and kisses
with its winter breath my autumn
that still blooms in spring. Unfold
the mystery of life; run the shadow and
It denies the uncertain of my chiaroscuro notes.

As a cat with hunger, the moon inhabits me
Deciphering me with his seven lives
Jaguara of the lost Paradise
Before her the amazement slips
and initiates the subtle game of the shadows.
Silence. Green tender in amber eyes
travel the sap clarified by their footprints,
footprints of fierce loneliness
read as intimate poem
of the quiescence. Everything kept silent the immense jungle,
nobody sleeps …stalks
stalks the life in the death
the ceiba unfurl the night
in the most matted of his leaves light,
belated light that undresses when falling the briefness of the time.
Isolated among its branches, without knowing what they think,
look devour the day to night, and the night to day;
what remains of the hunt, is part of another paradise
where it is not customary to give condolence.
Cosmic Fantasy
The lucid madness crosses the heart of desire.
Castaways of me the memories
they cry in solitude the delirious hours
of love, crossword puzzles unanswered
whispers insomniac
that copulate dreams
since the abode of the soul
for if I return
for if I return wake up again... I me seeing
to rain
to the beloved in per Se,
in Me, in Sol

360 °


360 degrees…
I have been alone
Days and nights
ghosts spit,
already I do not know myself.

360 º nothing moves
nor is touching. God!
An ancient mask conceals The Everything.
360 º and the epicentre
you´re still you
zero point
of the conscience


Your silence, burn


Once again life bursts

desolate the Universe is left.

Tañe his weeping in black hole

Zurze his heart in other suns.

Bite the light years of heartbreak

Burn the silence ... you don't know how much.

The stars scrawl oblivion.


Naked of time, your image

becomes mirror


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