Tomorrow’s food

I think it’s been many days—more than necessary—since I wrote a poem. Of course, I do not consider that this is due to the fact that I am suffering from the syndrome. horror to the blank space or whatever you call the impotence of putting written what is desired. Well, I am convinced that this can only happen to someone or those who take the problem too seriously. act of writing. In my case I assume that the language It is my absolute property and I can or cannot write whatever I want. Although at this moment what I want is not to be sitting here typing tired phrases and commonplaces that say nothing at all. When I know in advance—it is very clear to me—that all writing It is a display of intellectual energy and an authentic exercise of the senses. The problem is that for now I don’t have either one or the other. I may have to reinvent myself and start by changing my habits. I admit that I am quite routine. As an example, it is enough to say that the first thing I do when I stand up is prepare a jug of coffee that makes two cups. I take the first one, while I do the pending reading from the night before. The second, I take more slowly, busy answering text messages or any other task. Of course it is banality to be writing this. The truth is that this morning I got out of bed with a very heavy head and I’m having a hard time—although it may seem otherwise—to put these words together. In any case, I feel comforted to see that in my two by three meter patio—almost a balcony—my little ones basils They grow in the pots in which I planted them just a month ago—or maybe two. I think about the pasta I can make for myself. While I digitally scroll through the pages of a newspaper and in a note I read that president He invited eat to the Chairwoman elected I wonder what the menu will be? I also assume that they will have a long conversation, but what I assume doesn’t really matter.

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Ernestina Yépiz. Poet and narrator. Master in Literature, graduated from the Faculty of Philosophy and Letters of the UNAM; and has a degree in Political Science, graduated from the Autonomous University of Sinaloa. She is the author of the collections of poems The penumbra of the landscape, Los delirios de Eva and Los conjuros del cuerpo; from the book of stories The Café on Mulberry Street and the novel El Sueño de Paloma Sanlúcar. She is included in the General Anthology of Mexican Poetry, by Juan Domingo Argüelles; A very slow beast (sample of Sinaloan poetry); Tales of sweet voluptuousness, among other collective publications. She has also made the anthologies: The Nudity of Words, a selection of the poetry of Norma Bazúa; Between shadows (stories of suspense and darkness), narrative by Amparo Dávila; Night butterflies and other stories, narrative by Inés Arredondo, among others. She is also the author of Comer en Los Mochis: La cocina del festín y el agasajo. She is currently director of literature and publishing at the Sinaloense Institute of Culture.

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