Soleida Ríos was born in Santiago de Cuba in 1950. She has devoted more than thirty
years to nourishing a robust Archivo de Sueños (Archive of Dreams). Ríos published
El libro de los sueños (1999) and Antes del mediodía: Memoria del sueño (2011).
She has written several acclaimed experimental works that transcend genre, including
El libro roto (1995 and 2002); El texto sucio (1999); Libro cero (1998);
Fuga, una antología personal (2004); Secadero (2009); Escritos al revés (2009 and 2011).
Ríos won the Literary Critic’s Award for her Aquí pongamos un silencio (2010).
She also won the Nicolás Guillén National Poetry Award and the Literary Critic’s
Award for Estrías (2013 and 2015). Ríos writes that she wants "to plant a forest
of Cuban poetry, a real forest (one tree for every poet, living or dead) that
can give us refuge, another way of breathing."
Aviva Englander Cristy lives in Milwaukee, WI where she teaches creative writing and composition. Her chapbook, The Interior Structure, was published by Dancing Girl Press in 2013. Cristy received her M.F.A. in poetry from George Mason University. Her poems have appeared in Best New Poets 2012; The Spoon River Poetry Review; So To Speak; Prick of the Spindle; The Hollins Critic; BlazeVox; The Conversation Papers; Prime Number; decomP; and other journals.
Aviva Englander Cristy lives in Milwaukee, WI where she teaches creative writing and composition. Her chapbook, The Interior Structure, was published by Dancing Girl Press in 2013. Cristy received her M.F.A. in poetry from George Mason University. Her poems have appeared in Best New Poets 2012; The Spoon River Poetry Review; So To Speak; Prick of the Spindle; The Hollins Critic; BlazeVox; The Conversation Papers; Prime Number; decomP; and other journals.
to support the deceived child? to remove the husk of emptiness disintegrating from more than twenty years in its astonishing gulping? raise up the shoelaces? show look this is the tip of your toe is there a certainty in the tip of your toe? everything was an illusion the trees did not escape it was a lie the speed no one flees at two hundred kilometers per hour inside of your ear look how the people crowd together in the corners of the parks listening to the roar like a blessing of the bull who is castrated look how they go in the distance the masks lined up slowly smiling once again to wait the batteries of the next spectacle you pinned your heart for the rain it was a lie the rain was behind the curtains understand the world is full of curtains the house pretends to be the house and the rain pretends and that which wets the false roof is not more than mud diluted but the body as well --in its two waters-- pretends to be the body it was a lie there was no father nor mother but instead a sky on loan where you went to hang some words assistance the swing swings the planet rotates in reverse understand the light inverts itself pretends to be the light it is not the time that which dictates the corrosion of the words there in the time of the assassins the child terribly deceived glorified his age it was a lie right now present past and future they come together in the opening of the door show them the tip of your toe they are only vespers understand swallow the venom to the bottom the bad pretends the good pretends to be the good
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