Angel of the Paths Claudia Vila Molina

Texts extracted from the unpublished collection of poems “Ciénaga”

21 seconds they play your name
Like a shooting star I count the spaces
To lose myself in the water.

We are stopped by the claws of the wind
It’s time to sleep they tell us
we are asleep
Like fugitive silhouettes
We have gone astray.

The angel of the paths leads
our light
his hands lengthen the stems of the day
stretch contours.

My cloud brings pieces of time closer
I’m gloomy like these worm-eaten plants
Someone else will come from the night
To collect some forgotten landscape.

Unexpectedly I open my eyes towards you
I like to hear whispers from the outside line
Your eyes open other doors
And they stay sheltered from the shade.

Since that time I remember you
You slowly invade my landscapes
Cold voices bring the threads of that web closer
They surround the absent body.

I will open my eyes once more
When the stars dwell in our bodies
And a drop slipped through the skin
Suspend all reefs high.

Violet petals fall successively on us
The wind is gone, but the shadow remains
Water slides streams into the night
And the last fire extinguishes my stars.

Poems extracted from the book “Poemas de sur”

House and Plum IV

Stealth remains attentive to all caresses
My kisses keep looking for their route
And I remember the first home, the smells tremble with their laughter
Your look weighs on the eyelids of the imagination
The smells will come to dream of the intimate past
So long without looking back
Memory takes so long
It’s something illusory like the blue roses in the garden
The bridge where I whisper a name
a silhouette arrives tired to tell me
that figure sits in the memories
And I can no longer hide
in the holes of the old walls
but if the shadow is your name
I will continue whispering inside the empty space
and the walls will see their signs in the passing of things
beyond we will continue drawing in the rooms
and they will continue to walk through those passages
where the smoke today flies calmly.

House and plum V

We remember the fog visits us through the window
The green eyes returned to tour our nights
And an old walker passed through the house
We return to the site of the visits
The lamps lulled the traveling sound
Only God listens to us on this winter Friday
And I whisper to you not to repeat things
Our gestures turn off the lights
Fall memories unwrap
That house creaked in the front room
Eyes flickered subject to the crackle
A voice speaks words
I don’t know them anymore, the voice is barely heard
Between the trees you fly to contemplate the past
And the tree held by the foreign night
We are silent to hear each other in this stillness
Sleeping trees glow in the dark
They stretch their arms towards the house in the silence
The wind returns
And we as relic-weary passengers
We take care of the necessary gestures
Things twinkle distrustful of destiny
And only tonight can they blink in regret
Because the trees examine our deep voices
And no one will be able to descend from the passageway
And listen to the unknown song.

written by ©Claudia Vila Molina

Claudia Vila Molina

Writer born in Viña del Mar, Chile. Professor of language and communication at PUCV, poet and literary critic. In 2012, she published her first book, The Invisible Eyes of the Wind. She has published in renowned Chilean and foreign digital media: Babelia (Spain), Letras de Chile (Chile), Triplov and Athena de Portugal, among others. During the year 2017 she participates in the Xaleshem group with poetic texts for the surrealist anthologies: “Composing the illusion” in honor of Ludwig Zeller and “Full Moon”, in honor of Susana Wald. In 2018, she integrates the feminist anthology IXQUIC released both in Europe and in Latin America. In 2020 she participates reviewing the conversation book “Shuffle poetry, Surrealism in Latin America” ​​by Alfonso Peña (Costa Rica), also writes a poetic prose text for the book “Arcano 16, La torre“, by the same author. Likewise, she participates in the book “120 notes of Eros. Written portraits of surrealist women” by Floriano Martins (Brazilian surrealist poet, writer, visual artist and cultural manager). In this year (2021) she publishes her second poetry book Poética de la eroticaamores y desamores by Marciano editores, Santiago.

Featured art photo Peppermint Patty girl Oil, collage Mitchell Pluto 2022

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