Culiacan, Sinaloa. Mario Bojorquez (Los Mochis, Sinaloa, 03/24/1968). He joined the SNCA in 2007. He is currently a SNCA scholarship holder in his 2020-2023 period. He has deserved the Linha de apoio á tradução da língua portuguesa Scholarship 2020 and 2021, awarded by the Camões Institute in Portugal.
He studied Hispanic Language and Literature at UNAM, coordinated poetry workshops at INBA and other institutions. His literary work has won various awards, including: the Fine Arts Prize for Literature, the Aguascalientes National Poetry Prize, 2007 and the José Revueltas National Literary Essay Prize 2010, the Alhambra Prize for American Poetry 2012 in Granada, Spain and the Premiul Literature Fara Frontiere of the Festivalul de Carte de Transylvania, Romania 2016.
Mario Bojorquez He received the Prince and Poet Tecayehuatzin Distinction from Huexotzinco, the Ignacio Rodríguez Galván Award, the Cardenal Award and the Klísthenes Medal from the Demos Aigaleo in Athens, Greece.
Read more: An encounter with books; The ISIC shares Instructions to kill the enemy
His most recent books are Diván de Mouraria, 1999, 2007 and 2017 (Italian translation by Gianni Darconza, 2016), Pretzels, 2005 and 2015, The postponed desire, 2007 and 2018 (Italian translation by Emilio Coco, 2015), El Cerro of Memory, 2009, Y2K, 2009, Shadows Talk, 2013 and Ayotzinapa Memorial, 2016 and 2017.
His books are gathered in Lightning and memory, 2012, Here everything is memory, 2016, Memory of what has been lived, 2019 and Fire is my exact name, 2021.
He has participated in various recitals, meetings and national and international round tables on literature, as well as international meetings of poets in Washington, Los Angeles, Chicago, Cincinnati, Houston and New York, USA; San Jose of Costa Rica; Caracas Venezuela; Havana Cuba; Santo Domingo and Santiago, Dominican Republic; Grenada, Nicaragua; Barcelona and Granada, Spain; Bogota, Pereira and Barranquilla, Colombia; Cuenca and Quito, Ecuador; São Paulo and Recife, Brazil; Buenos Aires, Argentina; Bremen, Germany; Struga, Macedonia; Safi, Morocco; Vilnius, Lithuania; Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia; Sete, France; Rome, Venice, Bologna, Campobasso and Pienza, Italy; Athens, Greece; Cluj-Napoca, Romania; Beijing and Wuhan, China; Sharjah, Dubai and Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates; Moscow, Russia; Santiago, Chile; and Lima, Peru.
Gazelle of the waning moon
the moon wanes
it’s bow
tense the sky
after your meat
gazelle
I am the arrow
whistle through the air
the flight
of your jump
While
I decrease oh!
in the void.
From Divan de Mouraria (1999)
brooklyn bridge
From the other shore of what I say
a bridge is built to reach my word.
Every time I say my name
my name returns to me disfigured.
Every time I say water, the water becomes wind,
the wind fire, the fire my exact name
but much fuller, and more unknown.
I throw words, names, verses to the other shore
every time,
and each time announces new intensities
of what I don’t know.
I should throw over this bridge
what I don’t say, my silence,
so that one day a poem returns.
Of Pretzels (2005)
World Trade Center
The world is at your feet
what arduous speed helps the wind
how empty the emptiness
and what raises the view
on the roofs of buildings.
In the vertical train without seats
you take a ticket to heaven
you turn your eyes inward
and on the sidewalk in front
you see a more leafy tree
a greener land.
Only the wind knows the speed of the vacuum.
Of Pretzels (2005)
***
As if slow shores in rough seas
They will leave you at the port the only way out
And from your low shadow the foot on the shore
Biting a hope of failed shipwreck
Then raise your face
And face where others look down
The future that appears in your footsteps on solid ground
Then you’ll remember your foot in the sand
Like a happy memory of a time gone by
And the support of your foot where the abyss reigns
It will serve to walk in the air
Like the one who already knows
Very well where is he stepping
From Desire Deferred (2007)
***
I’m taking down the pictures
you point out this or that, you say, that although it has my name
somehow it belongs to you and there is some truth in those words.
The orange outline of the mannequin, with its thousand black stripes, anticipates the color of a girl
who will offer his body and his tongue on the spine of a cow.
I am for the last time the Minotaur,
I lose the labyrinth of your gestures
and I prepare for the pit.
I tell you that it is very sad to say goodbye like this,
that I will take your bloody image on the dirty sheets,
you nod, you wander between the free sidewalks of the blue buildings until you find the sign;
without that talisman I will not touch your body.
Now I am the white bull
you, Pasifae disguised as beef;
you have been smeared with essence along the edges and between the fabric of wood and leather
Your artifice welcomes me.
The frame resists the weight but not the truth
and that which now blooms in your womb will be the child satiated with your sadness.
Never, never again, I say still standing and inside you; never, never again will I cross your shore,
you will know nothing about me.
You stir in the bed bristling with thorns,
Sphinx lacerated, solved the riddle.
From Y2K (2009)
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