The word Birch

One day a long time ago, I drew the word birch to my favourite and beloved poet Herberto Padilla, the word which he could never climb in such a short life the place where we had gone running to with our eyes so little we cut ourselves with the crystal of the dead One day […]

Stalin‘s Smoking Pipe

The rumor grows that he disa [ppe] ared from his seat. We all search and no one can leave the place. One begins to die and asks himself if someone else is hiding it, if oneself has taken it sometimes unknowingly (we have all been right hand men). It always rushes you down the perpetual […]


i pedal up the street with a certain pride after stowing the moldy cries of my wife and give pause momentarily to the idea of shooting myself.  if i am free it is because I have come  to substitute air, i believe, and to hate her, and to measure from a distance the city that rots […]

Maybe no more

Maybe no more they come to announce me to be the witness of my execution. Maybe after all Pasternak was never put against a wall. I’m with the colors of the day upon my face. I have stayed dress for wedding. A gladiolus in my hand. The red, in my cheeks. The raven yawns mutely, […]

Le départ

«Tras-tu le chercher?», demanda-t-elle tout bas, comme si ce n’était pas un ordre, comme si c’était deja fait. Pour l’occasion, elle prenait ce ton aimable qui dissimulait son caractère dominateur, peaufiné au fil des ans. Son injonction, répétée jour aprés jour, avait perdu de son mordant, devenant une supplique pitoyable de vieille femme incapable de […]

Declaration of Guiltiness to the Senate

I Politics is not the last poet’s sky. Not that fruit of the abyss that reasonably absorbs the pure dart, the untamed dream. To submit to its weightless fire discipline, faithful to the letter to the bitter end, drove the Egypt Sotades to end —so it’s said— inside a box cast out to sea. He […]

For this solitude

For this solitude we have grown in with lips against the glass like the steep rock of a draught in the questionings. For this denture diluted in the ends of an empty envelope. For this solitude we swim in ready to dredge our hands and feet. For this solitude with which we don’t know how […]


Norges Espinosa

«Palabras que se hilvanan a través de sonetos, décimas […] y de un verso libre que gana sus mejores momentos en poemas tan ceñidos y seguros de su humildad».

«La poesía de Francis Sánchez es una revelación dentro de las letras cubanas, y una voz que viene a sumarse a las grandes voces jóvenes en el ámbito internacional».

«Poesía que entronca directamente con la gran poesía del siglo de oro español, de una riqueza rítmica y expresiva impresionante. Poesía que muestra muy a las claras un vasto conocimiento de la literatura clásica, hispana y no hispana […] que otorga —y exige— a cada poema una lectura detenida y pausada».

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