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Claudia Peña Gustavo Cardenas Gutierrez Anabel

Trane Control Board Voltage

bio-biblio

Claudia Peña (Santa Cruz, 1970) is a researcher, writer and poet. Published collections of short stories "The Gospel According to Paulina" (2003) and "What mom does not see us" (2006) and the poems "Useless burning" (2005) and "In the sky behind my back" (2007). This is his first novel.

poems

seasoned horses on my grandfather

banned horses

neigh under my weight.

While frames are silver stain

they are concerned with the smell of blood.

black horses grandfather

stand on two legs

his mane on my face.

The horses bow their backs.

Tonight grandfather

incrustaré my bones and my nails

on your horses crazy.

no longer be yours on tools and saddle pads.

no longer be yours sharp claws.

I arrived I

female infidel

and stubborn

to run to skim their hair

for riders to melt iron.

I, grandfather

above.

I will tear down your horses hell.

They wasted no

my blood on their backs.

I tame his wild neighing. I'll know

overcome their helmets in the air.

be able to ride them with the back arched

.

Acez your horses grandfather

but the day

just beginning.

Rite

Sometimes my body is opened to shelter

man (there are men who arrive

sensitive / giants / lost).

also sometimes confused

belly tenderness

truth (that strange habit of disappearing

are men.)

While they sometimes do not get caught

smells, the taste. I can hardly

, when you are gone, rebuilding its passing

gasps and my desire.

It occurs to me that the blood

(timely and complete) reflects the atavistic

washing instinct that shadow, that saliva. Sold

ritual I go blind, the sharp

days between your skin and my forgetfulness

(no angels left hungry

light and sighs).

But blindness is short

and diluted, naive, hope to tame

spell, my destiny.

The body does not forget:

the body remains,

always nest.

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Sebastian Molina

Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia. 1985

has published books jaiku After this silence and silence again.

How

express what the music

illuminates when muted?

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Pablo Sebastián Molina Emma

How Long Does Diverticulitis Last

Villazón Osorio Marcia Richter

VILLAZÓN EMMA RICHTER

bio-biblio: Born in Santa Cruz de la Sierra, 1983. Writer. Lic, Juridical Science, and Social Policy. Currently pursuing a career in the UAGRM Hispanic Philology. He won the National Award "Novice writers" of the Departmental Chamber of Santa Cruz Book with poems Fable fall.

poems

HERE FROM WILD FRUIT

Dime city, which are among your portraits of heroes and your trees with snakes.

Tell me who you are, regardless of your history of blood and angry riders.

Tell me what's behind your landscape reigns, crime and feasts.

Tell me, who knows what animal I walk your streets before hurrying.

Oh, tell city, in your children I look at you and I look at

and perhaps all pass through the world is this:

tied to the image of a square with eyes

recognized part of a sweet smell with thorns,

be a bit of river, prairie, child, fish and violence.

Oh, city of murderers, paint my memories,

molten stand at the root your air stranger!

Making me by


Somewhere, someone travels to you,
traveling night and day. Anne Carson



try to do everything carefully.
It instructs me to keep house in order and I do
first desperately, then without thinking
(without worrying as when I'm facing light);
then sweep the leaves covering the yard, pulling clothes
in ropes, cooking, remove the dust,
serves the flower buds of bricks:
veil their growth, his strange dream of a fist.
I take my job with sweat and guilt, but when
expired canned buttons down the toilet,
I stood there for several minutes.
is a relief to see how clean the water absorbs and takes all. Rest
seeing is sucked incredibly smelly
our lives, and emerge from what looked like child's vomit,
a foam similar to the sea.
is difficult to keep track of dirt, debris
we leave in the bathrooms, dishes, in the hallways, it's like lifting
what makes us the time every minute
in our privacy and keeps cobwebs around corners. Really
is hard, but when I see the foam that has been
evil, is for me like a song, one that will give me strength when it comes

night and has no other voice but that
I answer the phone.


(De: Tales of a fall)

Cibipresidentjack Mods

Mogro

MARCIA MOGRO

Bio-Biblio: born in La Paz, Bolivia, June 2 1956. Studied literature at the Universidad Mayor de San Andrés. He lives in Santiago de Chile since 1985. Have published their articles in magazines, newspapers and anthologies.

PUBLICATIONS

1988 "Semiramis, 16 (MG ).-"( poetry)
Chilean Young Poetry Collection," End of the Century Series "Black Box
and Documents Publishing House, Santiago, Chile

1995" The Hanging Gardens (poetry) The Little Man Sitting
Editorial, La Paz, Bolivia

2000 "De la Cruz to Date (poetry)
Hombrecito Sitting Editorial, La Paz, Bolivia

2004" The Hanging Gardens (poetry)
Editorial The Little Man Sitting,
La Paz, Bolivia, Second Edition

2005 "Lacrimosa" (poetry)
Hombrecito Sitting Editorial, La Paz, Bolivia

Referred by: Jessica Freudenthal

mentions: Fernando Rosso

Jaime Taborga

Diana Kuljis

Poems:

BOOK "SEMIRAMIS, 16 (MG) .-

COME WITH ME TO THE FAR LANDS OF BAGHDAD ...

TALK:
I do not have touched


but it is dark like night and cry.
cry because I'm freezing and I

bones ache and I feel my head hurt.

horror of our loneliness,
MEN AND WOMEN OF ALL AGES

AND ALL COUNTRIES IN NUMBER INCALCULABLE

HAVE STARTED A DANCE.

And now we're so high

botarnos began and I thought:
all preserved in the ice
and thought then when I find
,
will produce a large fire,
everywhere
spread,
to the ends of the empire.

LISTEN:
had to split it
body for all roads, all-apachetas
,
to serve as an example
and never repeat such acts.













THE BOOK "THE HANGING GARDENS"

MY HOUSE WILL OPEN ANY DEATH
A PEOPLE OR FLOWERS.
SILENCE. STREET.

washing clothes of their dead

and crying over the hapless river changed course

water and changed the landscape forever
your city


pierced the hapless
and cried for long polar nights


fell asleep under the suspension bridges as the river crosses

your city like a dream

hapless
like a dream against stones

river reflecting sky

far away and blue like a dream





















THE BOOK OF THE CROSS TO DATE


but every time you squint your eyes, amid
the din of battle and the crowd,
willing to crime and spinning like a dervish
I wonder if I'm human or animal case
am the result of a skeleton
well studied and invoked as a dialectic
inside of my own thinking

this has happened.
BOUND.
evening up to the rooftop of his palace,
from there considered the stars:
"Cross," he says
an unprecedented and dawn sky

custodian the same hill, crossed the same river

them hanging gardens.. .
I have come to be sad, I have a hurting heart

so rotten, so hopeless, so dramatically

opposite to my prior to the passage "

body of a woman wanting

siren not no angel

the Captain
with great sadness and melancholy remembrance
moved to other parts of the sky and latitude parallel














BOOK "Lacrimosa"

1.
but the city is impressive and beautiful

open displaying his body extended


in size and diversity as a show of anatomy
compared attracting
unceremoniously with his strange and splendid start
stage has come to this city
has seen the river, bridges
the mountains, places, buildings

but now stands where this street

from looking around, search the sky
says we should be together

alongside one another
together, together you should

I
2.

feel tearful wakes
absorbed the blood moves through your veins

cinnabar red sea rumor sparks sparks nostalgia sadness


know that birds and peregrine falcons highlighting her silhouette against the sky, also known

nude shows immaculate

status Length and angle fore and cavities

displayed showing all kinds of havoc
and demonstrating the highest level of perfection


should be together side by another
together, together you should

me (as a litany
invoked immaculate
lying between the sheets)

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John Christopher MacLean

CHRISTOPHER JOHN MACLEAN

mentioned : Rodolfo Ortiz

mentions:

poems

Map

All I limit with air.

air draws me as if I were not more than

a hole, a vacuum draws a

tripiezo of

wind, why not, nothing more than a

aure responsibility.

At this rate

my skin is just a fleeting picture of a tour

between the geography of the Flood,

Alexandria And again.

Lullaby

clothing seams

of the dead

rags of the living

I devote myself to wash :

am used

plunge my hands

in ice water

so they can go limpiios

and kissed

and stoned:

my beloved children, my ghosts gifted

never see again

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Cé Mendizabal Juan Carlos Orihuela

EC MENDIZÁBAL

bio-biblio: Cé Mendizabal was born in Oruro in 1956. He has published books of poems water Return (1994), Immersion cities (1998), The cócavo provilegio of oblivion (2004), and the novel by anyone else (2000) .

cited by: Rodolfo Ortiz

mentions:

poems

Denmark

The eyes are the mirrors gnawed

the eyes that you have to witness.

words, less and more than foam,

dear prince,

and in any case, Denmark

/ is all crazy. Blood

in their voices will

and edges grow within its walls.

On the back of your balcony

Smile

After

blurred glass

Hold the old house

Three or four in the afternoon,

I That will dictate You

decrees which guards

On the back of your balcony

huddled desire

plotting their indomitable arabesques

inventing memory

blind Mirror That does not deny bodies

The

each other

Laughter voices ringing in every room

In our body the other body

What never was, but here

The coalition of the words black

stoking the fire on blank page

cease to be the seven

cease to be the feel

and minutes sealed

you follow waiting.

long hours is turned upside

against animals awaiting

The "already come"

the "something happens"

the "what if I have forgotten?"

fauna of intrigue and despair

added eight

and all your arguments

when

way back without having glimpsed

imagined happiness

without conjuring the ghosts

at the point of words

unaddressed verbal River

Saved night itself

the habit of sinking in the black sea

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Juan Carlos Orihuela

mentioned :

René Odsmar Filipovich

Jessica Freudenthal

mentions:

poems

Memorial my death

(fragment)

With this body go down door

in

door to reach the bush.

With insomnia God spoke to me without naming

go I'll go to the lakes and ridges

certificaré and my memory on high

city

my skin hoping to step out.

soon learn to know the dry

and vertical distance caller repeat such

I already knew.

wall to wall jumping

call on the moor heretical

and I will dwell in the holes where

ever sought refuge in

the calm of the ravines.

With this body shove dust

pm

dormmido find me on your back

sustained only by a look of soul.

Pure will travel up the hollow of the stone

where they will await my paders

without sound.

She and her five-destination

recalling cars

galleries deep

the house in his hometown wooded-

He

the pants in tow

leñando

scratching struggling

on the whistle generous

their mornings work.

I solicit the water in the rings

of my childhood

and I will name things and places

until my voice is not just my voice

and my body a custom woven

time.

With this body I will go to graze

by smoke holiday

and will cross the park pushing my

skull with a stick.

Apretaré joyful hands of my friends

and sit with them under the pine trees

to hear the plain lethargy

when the first age moss

recover devoid of anxiety on

- all melancholy -

and can look without vertigo

the city spent oil.

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VILMA TAPIA

bio-biblio:

Vilma Tapia Anaya (Bolivia). Born in La Paz. He studied education in Cochabamba UMSS. He has a Diploma in Community Mental Health of the Universidad Mayor de San Simón. She was invited some meetings with writers and poets in Latin America and Europe.

worked in the fields of education, journalism and sustainable development. He has edited and collaborated with some literary journals and in recent years encouraged many creative writing workshops. Published "The Desire and the Rose", "Oh stations, castles oh" background Fireflies, "" Stubborn Hearts Scale.

His poems have been included in the Anthology of Poetry Bolivia (2004) made by Velásquez Mónica Guzmán and the bilingual poetry anthology between two worlds (2004).

cited by: Adriana Lanza

poems

1
I entered my mirror
to touch me. Staring

reflected
have touched me:

Stranded in other banks

I discovered the sweetness of my own mystery.

As I grab my fear
declined.

Now I can be much more wind.

3
Love
my battlefield cemetery
my tightrope
my life my source

my nest of roses my promised land


my litmus test my crown of thorns.

9

Wide awake

moon slow heavy

pushes the sky


joins up with his shoulders extended

night

the sheet

(Firefly FUND)

Morning I Look



to


eyes eyes

watch it weaves a thread

eyes with eyelids open

eyes wavering eyelids



time segmented circles

tree blooms between her fingers frutece

not completely naked



an alliance look silvery
does the danger?


as carved in stone on the cheek

mother moaning

Pinnacle 3010inot Recognised

Vilma Jorge Tapia Rene Campero

JORGE CAMPERO

cited by: René Odsmar Filipovich


mentions:

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Odsmar Filipovich

RENE ODSMAR Filipovich

cited by: Jessica Freudenthal

mentions: Jorge Campero

Benjamin Chavez Jessica Freudenthal

Rodolfo Ortiz Juan Carlos Orihuela

poems

sewer Fossil

Inside the stone; someone chewing time.

Antigua letter rediscovering the deep sadness.

Dream while mutágenoplatinada breaks in music.

eternal fetal position between the ribs of gunpowder.

Carbonatocorazón joyful bubbling

withered under water coffins.

Stores his black emesis.

mouth full of dark soil.

Reluctantly cerebral anesthesia without snoring.

mineral the child will think involution;

"Every word has hardened

what it could yelp.

silence has consumed all

with my heartbeat. "

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RUBEN VARGAS

bio-biblio:

Ruben Vargas (La Paz, 1959) has published the poetry books body signals (1986 ) and abolished Tower (2003). Currently teaches workshops in literature at the Universidad Mayor de San Andrés and directs the Bolivian magazine of literature Alexandria.

mentioned : Jessica Freudenthal

poems: