Last year was the publisher of poetry threads created by a group of poets from Argentina, which made its appearance in the publishing of the genre, with great success (see http://blogdelamasijo.blogspot .com/2010/10/nueva-editorial-de-poesia-hilos-editora.html ).
Today is Healer, new publisher of poetry, poets also created by Marcelo Carneiro, Soledad Castresana, Claudia Masin and Victoria Schcolnick-who set out to rescue the work of contemporary poets, in particular, Latin American texts, many times of worship, have been exhausted or have never been published, and also published in his collection, Cruz de Sal, the unpublished work of contemporary poets.
And the first edition of Healer is a book considered a "cult" Son of a bitch is called, and its author is a Chilean poet Urriola Malú.
Today is Healer, new publisher of poetry, poets also created by Marcelo Carneiro, Soledad Castresana, Claudia Masin and Victoria Schcolnick-who set out to rescue the work of contemporary poets, in particular, Latin American texts, many times of worship, have been exhausted or have never been published, and also published in his collection, Cruz de Sal, the unpublished work of contemporary poets.
And the first edition of Healer is a book considered a "cult" Son of a bitch is called, and its author is a Chilean poet Urriola Malú.
Son of a bitch will be presented and l Thursday April 7 at 19 . 30 in 1031 Acevedo, Palermo. The event will feature the author, who read his texts, and the writer and journalist Patricia Kolesnicov, responsible for submitting the book.
On occasion, there will be poetry, toasts and celebration, celebrate the fact that already, because it is a real event.
Excerpt from the book: "(...)
Outdoor spinning a red lantern and the sign was falling apart as seedy nightclub, as if we were to crash into the death, the man pulled a small key. barking dogs and the man led us to a small room that we would not see, turned on the TV and a few joints, then I smoked a cigarette after another, one after another and I watched and talked about the little room, of lameness of man, our own lameness, night running with unusual haste, the clouds were fast, bluish, violet, and blows of life, as if we were to beat us to the life, the man brought two cups of coffee that cooled on the nightstand, in a corner of the room were the remains a party that others left, which wanted to have a drink, I said, you approach slowly, contrary to the clouds, unlike the night that ran fast, unlike dogs that did not stop barking, from time and then fell silent, and silent until the lights of a car crashed into the glass and lit the small room that showed your body and then came the shadows that covered you, far from home, so far home and on the radio with half dead batteries Janis sang bye, bye, baby. "
Data the author :
Urriola Malú (Sgo. de Chile, 1967). He has published: Rolling Stones, 1988; Give me your dirty love, 1994, Son of a bitch, 1998 (this year reedit. Healer) Nada, 2003 and arm movement, 2007. He has won several awards. His poems have been translated into several languages. Work as a screenwriter for television and film.
On occasion, there will be poetry, toasts and celebration, celebrate the fact that already, because it is a real event.
Excerpt from the book: "(...)
Outdoor spinning a red lantern and the sign was falling apart as seedy nightclub, as if we were to crash into the death, the man pulled a small key. barking dogs and the man led us to a small room that we would not see, turned on the TV and a few joints, then I smoked a cigarette after another, one after another and I watched and talked about the little room, of lameness of man, our own lameness, night running with unusual haste, the clouds were fast, bluish, violet, and blows of life, as if we were to beat us to the life, the man brought two cups of coffee that cooled on the nightstand, in a corner of the room were the remains a party that others left, which wanted to have a drink, I said, you approach slowly, contrary to the clouds, unlike the night that ran fast, unlike dogs that did not stop barking, from time and then fell silent, and silent until the lights of a car crashed into the glass and lit the small room that showed your body and then came the shadows that covered you, far from home, so far home and on the radio with half dead batteries Janis sang bye, bye, baby. "
Data the author :
Urriola Malú (Sgo. de Chile, 1967). He has published: Rolling Stones, 1988; Give me your dirty love, 1994, Son of a bitch, 1998 (this year reedit. Healer) Nada, 2003 and arm movement, 2007. He has won several awards. His poems have been translated into several languages. Work as a screenwriter for television and film.
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