Aquí dejo la entrevista para el programa Conexión Latina de la ciudad de Madison que conduce Eugenia Highland. La entrevista es acerca de mi nueva colección de poemas, LUZ DE TODOS LOS TIEMPOS, publicado por Cowfeather Press.
Here is the interview for the television program Conexión Latina in Madison, Wisconsin. Conexión Latina is hosted by Eugenia Highland. The interview is about my new bilingual poetry book, LIGHT OF ALL TIMES, published by Cowfeather press.
https://media.cityofmadison.com/Mediasite/Play/3d7fce025abf4e08a940ccfa793504891d
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Sunday, July 13, 2014
Aquí dejo el enlace para About a Place.Un excelente número de About Place Journal dedicado a la Madre Tierra con poesía de todas las latitudes.
A great issue of About Place Journal dedicated to Mother Earth with poetry from all over the world.
http://aboutplacejournal.org/
A great issue of About Place Journal dedicated to Mother Earth with poetry from all over the world.
http://aboutplacejournal.org/
Friday, April 18, 2014
REACTION
Para Thomas Loomis
Para Thomas Loomis
Hace algunos años
tuve unos zapatos
como esos,
del color del
insomnio.
Estos zapatos
me esperaban
en el frío de la
noche
como dos cuervos.
Un día mi hermano
Miró la etiqueta
y me dijo:
“Estos zapatos
fueron hechos
en los talleres
del sudor y la
sangre.”
Aun así estos
zapatos me llevaron
de un país a otro
de asalto a otro.
A veces a mis
zapatos
les entró el odio
como el agua
de los charcos
que no pueden cerrar
los ojos
les entraron
las ganas de caminar
y caminamos
hambrientos
por días, hasta
hasta llegar
a la casa de la
razón.
A veces esos
zapatos hicieron
escándalo
y patearon
puertas
y armarios
como los cascos
de un caballo
enfermo de sí mismo
esos zapatos
patearon cajas
y libros,
todo lo que tuvo
las huellas
de los hombres.
En las noches
en las que no puedo
apagar las luces
de mis ojos
en las que sigo
hablando
y hablando
siento que todavía
tengo puestos
esos zapatos
tercos
insomnes
siento
que todavía tengo
puestos esos zapatos
y sigo caminando
y caminando
como un incendio
viejo
como árbol sin
raíces
en el mundo.
REACTION
For Thomas Loomis
For Thomas Loomis
Years ago
I had shoes
I had shoes
like these
with the colors
of insomnia.
These shoes
waited for me
in the night’s cold
with the colors
of insomnia.
These shoes
waited for me
in the night’s cold
like two crows.
One day my brother
look at their label
and said:
"These shoes
were made
in workshops of
sweat and blood. "
Yet these
shoes took me
from one country to another
from one storm to another.
Sometimes,
hate entered my shoes
like water from puddles
that cannot close their eyes.
The urgency to walk
and walk
One day my brother
look at their label
and said:
"These shoes
were made
in workshops of
sweat and blood. "
Yet these
shoes took me
from one country to another
from one storm to another.
Sometimes,
hate entered my shoes
like water from puddles
that cannot close their eyes.
The urgency to walk
and walk
entered my shoes,
hungry
for days
until we got
to the house of reason.
hungry
for days
until we got
to the house of reason.
Sometimes those
shoes made
scandals
and kicked
doors
and cabinets
like hooves
shoes made
scandals
and kicked
doors
and cabinets
like hooves
of a horse sick of
himself.
Those shoes
kicked boxes
and books,
and all things
kicked boxes
and books,
and all things
that had
traces of man
traces of man
On nights
when I cannot
turn off the lights
when I cannot
turn off the lights
of my eyes,
and I talk
and I talk
and I talk
in the dark,
I feel
that I still have
I feel
that I still have
those shoes on,
stubborn,
sleepless
stubborn,
sleepless
shoes.
I feel
that I still have
those shoes on,
and I walk,
and I walk,
like an old fire,
like a tree without roots
in the world.
and I walk,
and I walk,
like an old fire,
like a tree without roots
in the world.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
LEJOS DE LA GENTE QUE MUERE CON LAS ESTACIONES
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Aquí esta el enlace para uno de mis poemas en YouTube, Razones en el Invierno
Here is the link to one of my poems in YouTube, Reasons in the Winter.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBAfv-Zg9tY
Here is the link to one of my poems in YouTube, Reasons in the Winter.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBAfv-Zg9tY
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Luz de Todos Los Tiempos / Light of All Times now available!!
My new collection of poetry is now available. Please support my work and the work of Cowfeather Press, a small amazing publisher in Madison, Wisconsin. You can purchase Luz de Todos los Tiempos from the Cowfeather Press website or contact me directly at moisesvillavicencio (at) gmail (dot) com.
Advance Praise
I have known this marvelous poet, Moisés Villavicencio Barras, for many years. It is a pleasure to finally see his work published in a bi-lingual edition. His poety reflects devotion to Mexico, to his native Oaxaca, and to his family. The histories here, and the mysteries, come from the hand of a poet who should be read, whomust be heard. One finds here a mind focused on the beauty of language and the deep song of loveliness and love.—Neeli Cherkovski, author of Leaning Against Time
Read Moisés Villavicencio Barras's poems in Light of All Times and enter a dark, familiar theater of heartfelt longing. A theater skillfully built of forceful words and raw beauty. Do not trust the coyote at the crossing; trust the power of the eye, the ear, and the heart of this poet. —Bruce Dethlefsen, Wisconsin Poet Laureate 2011-2012
Moisés Villavicencio Barras's second
collection of poetry offers us in lush, sensual language his childhood
in Oaxaca and his Mazatec ancestors, his family life both there and in
the U. S., and the experience of belonging to both far and near. In
these poems, his
self-reflective vision of living at once in the North and South
awakens us to what is near, just outside the window, and to
what is far, the jaguar in the ravine. He is a poet of such imaginative
grace that, even after I've closed the book, I want to listen and be
vulnerable enough to hear a voice speak this way again. In this bravely
envisioned collection of poems, we read and feel transformed in its
light, having grown closer to one another and to the earth, the source
of song and beauty. —Roberta Hill, University of Wisconsin-Madison
Saturday, March 2, 2013
ESTA ES MI VERSION DE LO QUE PASA CON LAS BICICLETAS ABANDONADAS/THIS IS MY VERSION ABOUT THE BICYCLES THAT WERE ABANDONED
ROLANDO’S BICYCLE
By Moises Villavicencio Barras
The bicycle waited there, underneath
the oak tree, hoping. Throughout the summer saw other bicycles, and sometimes,
the bicycle counted the other bicycles to forget the long hours under the sun
and her absent owner. She listened, pleased, to the commentaries of passers-by.
-That is not an ugly bicycle!
-Classic!
-A little heavy!
-Perfect tires for the winter!
-What a shame!
Rain and dust did their work: her chain
yellowed, yellow like one of the leaves between her spokes. The bicycle
recognized each dog that approached. Unknown hands took to her horn and rear
view mirror.
- I like her color! Blue, like my
earrings.
-The seat is leather!
Although the wind tried to pedal her,
it was not sufficient. The oxide little by little began to grow in the teeth of
her chain and all over her body.
-Is it the bicycle of Rolando? –
-Yes! Yes it has his name scratched
into the handlebar.
-Have you seen Rolando?
-It has been several months since I
have seen him. You know, since the fight in the bar when he got kicked out.
The snow began to fall, in great
flakes. Two children appeared next to the bicycle, one of them took off the
seat, the other the front rim. A crow settled in what was left of her, after
the children went away. The snow continued falling, but the crow remained,
immovable there on the handlebar. The children returned with screwdrivers and
clamps. Whenever the children tried to approach, the crow pecked and squawked
loudly. As it was parking, a small truck struck the bicycle mortally. It
doubled the bike in on herself, bringing the front rim to the back wheel.
…Weather forecast from the crashed
truck radio… Snow will continue until to fall until tomorrow. The
temperature will drop below zero, a snow fall between 15 and 20 inches is
expected. It is advised to not travel by highway, and stay indoors unless
necessary.
Scared by the impact, the crow jumped
to the highest branches of the oak. The children continued to try and
disassemble the bicycle. Once again the crow return to the handlebar. The thin voice
of the children’s mother called to them:
-Miguel and Ricardo, time to come in!
The snow and the night slowly covered
the rest of the bicycle, and the crow, paralyzed on her handlebar. Before
falling asleep, and after their Mother read three stories to them, the children
saw from their bedroom’s window the crow and the bicycle disappear into the
sky.
LA BICICLETA DE ROLANDO
La bicicleta estuvo ahí, debajo del roble esperando. Durante todo el
verano vio pasar a otras bicicletas. Algunas veces las contó para olvidarse de
las largas horas bajo el sol y la ausencia de su dueño. Ella escuchaba complacida
los comentarios de los transeúntes.
--¡No es una bicleta fea!
--¡Clásica!
--¡ Un poco pesada!
--¡ Llantas perfectas para el invierno!
--¡ Que lástima!
La lluvia y el polvo hicieron su trabajo, la cadena estaba amarilla, un
amarillo como el de las hojas entre sus rayos. La bicicleta reconocía a cada
perro que se acercaba. Unas manos
desconocidas se llevaron su corneta y el espejo retrovisor.
--¡Me gusta su color! Azul, como mis aretes.
--El asiento, ¡es de cuero!
Aunque el viento trató de pedalearla, no fue suficiente, el óxido poco a
poco empezó a crecer en los dientes de
su cadena y en todo su cuerpo.
--¿Es está la bicicleta de Rolando?
--Sí, sí, tiene su nombre grabado en el manubrio.
--¿Lo has visto?,
-- Tiene varios meses que no lo he visto desde el zafarrancho en la
cantina donde lo sacaron a patadas.
La nieve empezó a caer, eran copos grandes. Dos niños pasaron junto a la
bicicleta, uno de ellos le desprendió el asiento, el otro la llanta delantera.
Un cuervo vino a posarse en lo que quedaba de ella después de que los niños se
fueron. La nieve siguió cayendo, pero el cuervo siguió ahí, inmóvil sobre el
manubrio. Los niños regresaron con desarmadores y pinzas. Cada vez que los
niños trataron de acercarse, el cuervo lanzó picotazos y fuertes graznidos. Al
estacionarse, una camioneta golpeó
mortalmente a la bicicleta. Le dobló el cuadro y la llanta trasera.
Pronóstico del tiempo: la nevada continuará hasta el día de mañana, la
temperatura descenderá a 20 bajo cero, se espera una capa de nieve entre 15 y
20 pulgadas. Se aconseja no viajar por
carretera, no salir si no se está bien abrigado...
Asustado por el impacto, el cuervo subió a las ramas más altas del
roble. Los niños trataron de seguir desarmando la bicicleta. Una vez más el
cuervo regreso al manubrio. La voz delgada de la mamá llamó a los niños: ¡
Miguel y Ricardo,es hora de entrar a la casa!
La nieve y la noche cubrieron lentamente los restos de la bicicleta y el
cuervo paralizado sobre el manubrio. Antes de dormirse, y después de que su
Mamá les leyó tres cuentos, los niños
vieron desde su ventana al cuervo y a la bicicleta desaparecer en el cielo.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
My publisher Cowfeather says this about my forcoming collection of poetry, Luz de Todos los Tiempos/Ligth of All Times, and to celebrate I am posting a new poem, Nieva también ceniza
Moisés Villavicencio Barras, who hails originally from Mexico, teaches in the Madison Public
Schools. While widely known in Mexico as a poet and translator, and with a previous
book to his credit, he is still relatively unknown in the United States. “We’re excited to
help his work gain an audience,” said Busse. And Dethlefsen, as senior Cowfeather
author, adds that Villavicencio Barras makes poems “skillfully built of forceful words
and raw beauty.” The poems in Luz de Todos los Tiempos/Light of All Times, which
appear in Spanish and English together on the page, alternate between Madison and
Mexico, between family and the natural world, between grief and celebration. “It’s
appropriate that we’re announcing this collection just as we begin to celebrate Dia de los
Muertos, the Day of the Dead,” adds Busse. “Villavicencio Barras memorializes his
family, with tenderness and joy, but he does not flinch from honesty in these poems.” Luz
de Todos los Tiempos/Light of All Times will come out early summer 2013.
Schools. While widely known in Mexico as a poet and translator, and with a previous
book to his credit, he is still relatively unknown in the United States. “We’re excited to
help his work gain an audience,” said Busse. And Dethlefsen, as senior Cowfeather
author, adds that Villavicencio Barras makes poems “skillfully built of forceful words
and raw beauty.” The poems in Luz de Todos los Tiempos/Light of All Times, which
appear in Spanish and English together on the page, alternate between Madison and
Mexico, between family and the natural world, between grief and celebration. “It’s
appropriate that we’re announcing this collection just as we begin to celebrate Dia de los
Muertos, the Day of the Dead,” adds Busse. “Villavicencio Barras memorializes his
family, with tenderness and joy, but he does not flinch from honesty in these poems.” Luz
de Todos los Tiempos/Light of All Times will come out early summer 2013.
NIEVA
TAMBIÉN CENIZA
Nieva
también ceniza
desde
las manos
de
los que se cansaron
de
esperarnos.
Como
mi casa antigua
nieva
cuando recuerda.
Nieva
desde tus ojos sangre y piedras.
Nieva
dolores la tarde.
Nieva
con ganas de decir basta
a
las cosas de los hombres.
Nieva
en el cuarto de las manecillas
en
las aulas oscuras
en
los pasillos
donde
se prohibe la vida.
Desde
el punto
más
alto y profundo
de
la materia sola, nieva.
Nieva
con los puños,
cabeza
y codos.
A
todos nos cae
esta
mezcla de ceniza
con
la violencia y la ternura
de
la nieve real y húmeda.
IT
ALSO SNOWS ASHES
It
is snowing ashes
from
the hands
of
those who got tired
of
waiting.
Like
my ancient house
it
is snowing memories.
From
your eyes
it
is snowing blood and stones.
The
evening snows pain.
It
is snowing with the desire
to
say ‘no more’ to man’s things.
It
is snowing in the clock room.
It
is snowing in dark classrooms,
in
hallways
where
life is prohibited.
From
the highest and deepest
point
of lonely matter it is snowing ,
like
when we fight
with
our heads, fist and elbows.
Everybody
is covered
with
this wet and real blend
of
violence and tenderness.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Sunday, October 14, 2012
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