tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77999630986012601222024-03-13T17:27:44.217-07:00Mónica Nepotebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11261837432902612470noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7799963098601260122.post-49566313147216785322007-03-12T20:52:00.000-07:002007-03-13T14:19:43.438-07:00Biography, Bibliography, HistoryMónica Nepote was born in Guadalajara, Jalisco, in 1970.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://home.pacbell.net/jlegato/mexico/map1.gif"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 436px; height: 326px;" src="http://home.pacbell.net/jlegato/mexico/map1.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />She studied Spanish-American literature at the University of Guadalajara.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://enlinea.guadalajara.gob.mx/postales/Images/Centro_historico/UniversidadGdl.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 409px;" src="http://enlinea.guadalajara.gob.mx/postales/Images/Centro_historico/UniversidadGdl.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />For a number of years she worked as head news editor for <a href="http://www.canal22.org.mx/main.html">Channel 22 television</a>, where she later wrote the visual arts portion of the telemagazine “Luz verde” on the same channel.<br /><br />She has published a number of books and chapbooks including <span style="font-style: italic;">Islario </span>(Cuadernos de filodecaballos; Guadalajara, 2001) and <span style="font-style: italic;">Trazos de noche herida</span> (Fondo Editorial Tierra Adentro, CONACULTA: México, D.F., 1993). Her poetry, essays, chronicles and literary criticism have appeared in <span style="font-style: italic;">El Ángel, Biblioteca de México, Crónica Dominical, La Jornada Semanal, Nexos, Nostromo, Ovaciones en la Cultura, </span>and <span style="font-style: italic;">Sábado</span>.<br /><br />She has twice won the National Fund Award for Culture and Art in the area of poetry. In 2002 she received the Efraín Huerta National Poetry Prize offered by the state of Tamaulipas. She lives in Mexico City, where she teaches poetry workshops and works as a freelance writer and art critic.<br /><br />Translations of her poems into English have been published in the online version of <a href="http://corpse.org/issue_3/burning_bush/nepote.html">Exquisite Corpse</a>, and in the journals <a href="http://www.bitteroleander.com/issues.html">Bitter Oleander</a> and Rhizome, as well as in the anthology <span style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://www.upress.pitt.edu/BookDetails.aspx?bookId=35445">Sin puertas visibles</a>: An Anthology of Contemporary Poetry by Mexican Women</span> (ed. and trans. Jen Hofer, University of Pittsburgh Press, 2003).<br /><br />Events in Mexican history around the time of the publication of <span style="font-style: italic;">Trazos de noche herida</span> (1993), Nepote's first book:<br /><br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/North_American_Free_Trade_Agreement">NAFTA</a> & <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zapatista_Army_of_National_Liberation">The Zapatista movement</a> (January 1, 1994)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/37/Mexico.Chis.EZLN.01.jpg/300px-Mexico.Chis.EZLN.01.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/37/Mexico.Chis.EZLN.01.jpg/300px-Mexico.Chis.EZLN.01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><h3><span class="mw-headline">NAFTA's Impact on Mexican farmers</span></h3> <p>Several studies have concluded that NAFTA has destroyed hundreds of thousands of agricultural jobs in Mexico. An influx of imports has lowered the prices for Mexican corn by more than 70% since 1994. As a result, of the the 15 million Mexicans who depend on the crop, many can no longer afford basic health care and the labor demanded of them has been increased. NAFTA has been criticized for allowing US agricultural subsidies to artificially depress corn prices. In 2000 alone, U.S. government subsidies to the corn sector totaled $10.1 billion, a figure ten times greater than the total Mexican agricultural budget that year.<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span>Other studies reject NAFTA as the force responsible for depressing the incomes of poor corn farmers, citing the trend's existence more than a decade before NAFTA's existence, an increase in maize production after NAFTA went into effect in 1994, and the lack of a measurable impact on the price of Mexican corn due to subsidized corn coming into Mexico from the U.S., though they agree that the destruction of U.S. agricultural subsidies would aid Mexican farmers.</p>beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11261837432902612470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7799963098601260122.post-55208311638405264142007-03-11T22:10:00.000-07:002007-03-11T22:12:52.988-07:00El Músico<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy1hQY_UHybUVNIltewu28VSukO1jIb42sFY93ifni7InJvrsjBT5q8OFAawxw-R87P2NvPMPV5OMm5KNnuoKWPwS6CKv29mDa1J84DltnJcoNUg7xWVCZDLbnqbYQRYSKtJyOgwal-Q/s1600-h/ElMusico.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy1hQY_UHybUVNIltewu28VSukO1jIb42sFY93ifni7InJvrsjBT5q8OFAawxw-R87P2NvPMPV5OMm5KNnuoKWPwS6CKv29mDa1J84DltnJcoNUg7xWVCZDLbnqbYQRYSKtJyOgwal-Q/s320/ElMusico.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5040901254921704098" border="0" /></a>beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11261837432902612470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7799963098601260122.post-77601936866463286822007-03-11T22:07:00.001-07:002007-03-11T22:13:05.743-07:00La Estrella<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://a2.vox.com/6a00c2251d7b5e604a00c22528b82a549d-120pi"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 208px;" src="http://a2.vox.com/6a00c2251d7b5e604a00c22528b82a549d-120pi" alt="" border="0" /></a>beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11261837432902612470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7799963098601260122.post-65865911298618362952007-03-11T22:01:00.001-07:002007-03-14T16:20:51.414-07:00La Sirena<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://xochico.com/magnets/images/SI-MG-A.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 188px; height: 257px;" src="http://xochico.com/magnets/images/SI-MG-A.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">La sirena<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style=""><span style=""> </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Mónica Nepote<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="ES">Envuelta en la luz se vuelve roja. Llegó con un mar inhóspito, cantando que la suerte la anida cada hueso. Trae un calamar en El tobillo y camina dejando de rastro las estrellas.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="ES"><span style=""> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Un beso se le escapa, llega ante la boca de un parroquiano. Ella ríe, sacude las mariposas de su cuerpo. Un par de ojos choca ante el cristal que guarda el aire, que asfixia al fuego antes de arder bajo la bóveda.<o:p></o:p></p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="ES"><span style=""> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Esa piel castaña asombra ante el espejo de su canto. El marinero la dejó suelta entre caracoles de mentira. Ella se perfumó la oreja con la sal de su saliva.<o:p></o:p></p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="ES"><span style=""> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Esta medusa ha ensortijado las historias. Echó redes a las venas, anudó los pendientes del dueño de este antro; volvió a la luna página de su bitácora, cómplice del color abundante de su boca.<o:p></o:p></p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="ES"><span style=""> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Observa entre las velas. Elige. Apunta hacia el poniente. La brújula que recorrió su pecho la hizo madre de los hombres. La llamó hija de su llanto.<o:p></o:p></p></span></p><br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">The mermaid</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Mónica Nepote, trans. Becca Klaver<br /><i style=""><o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Swathed in light, she turns red.<span style=""> </span>She arrived with an inhospitable sea, singing that fortune nests in each bone.<span style=""> </span>She wears a squid on her ankle and walks leaving a trail of stars.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">A kiss escapes her, arrives at the mouth of a patron.<span style=""> </span>She laughs, shakes butterflies from her body.<span style=""> </span>A pair of eyes hits the glass that traps the air, that puts out the fire before it burns below the cavern.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">His brown skin darkens, taken aback by the mirror of her song. <span style=""> </span>The sailor set her free among toy snails.<span style=""> </span>She perfumed his ear with the salt of her saliva.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">This medusa has curled the histories.<span style=""> </span>Cast nets around the veins of, tied up the loose ends of, the master of this cavern; returned to the moon as a page from her logbook, an accomplice to the abundant color of her mouth. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">She keeps watch among the sails.<span style=""> </span>Chooses.<span style=""> </span>Trains her gaze on the west. <span style=""> </span>The compass that traveled through her chest made her mother of men.<span style=""> </span>Called her daughter of its cry.</p>beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11261837432902612470noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7799963098601260122.post-42244261140393906202007-03-11T21:59:00.001-07:002007-03-14T16:27:37.742-07:00Lotería * Literatura<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i29.photobucket.com/albums/c258/GdfthrUofR/loteria.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 323px; height: 534px;" src="http://i29.photobucket.com/albums/c258/GdfthrUofR/loteria.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Late 20th-century Spanish-American <a href="http://www.bartleby.com/65/sp/SpanAmlit.html">Literature</a>.<br /><br />A definition of <a href="http://www.bartleby.com/65/ma/magicreal.html">magical realism</a>.beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11261837432902612470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7799963098601260122.post-40986225619154393852007-03-11T21:25:00.000-07:002007-03-14T16:28:06.641-07:00Let's speak of September in exileMónica Nepote, trans. Becca Klaver<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;">To C.A. and R.F.<br />at six years<br /></div><br /><br />Let’s speak of September in exile:<br /> of a few days preserved in ink<br /> of so many splintered afternoons<br /> of the calm and of the eyes.<br /><br />Let’s speak of knowing ourselves as parts of a<br /> machine<br /> inexact and hasty;<br /> of processed forgetfulness.<br /><br />Let’s speak so we don’t ignore the sunlight that filters<br /> onto everyone’s skin;<br /> of the indiscreet hieroglyph<br /> that forms us out of the same calendar.beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11261837432902612470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7799963098601260122.post-33173136518975121842007-03-11T21:23:00.000-07:002007-03-14T16:28:18.699-07:00The rain returnsMónica Nepote, trans. Becca Klaver<br /><br />The rain returns<br />to touch the sidewalk<br />with the feel of a solitary woman.<br /><br />The ballerina<br />of the walls<br />shudders with a limpid moan.<br /><br />We the deaf<br />Live in lukewarm bodies.<br /><br />In desolate<br />rebellion<br />we open the window.beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11261837432902612470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7799963098601260122.post-4008358000462068152007-03-11T19:44:00.000-07:002007-03-11T21:23:22.660-07:00Estocolmo (This is the Last Straw)<span style="font-style: italic;">from the collaboration project <a href="http://www.artesonoro.net/GALERIA/PERSONAE/Personae.html">PERSONAE</a></span><br /><br />ESTOCOLMO<br /> Mónica Nepote<br /><br />Mi rostro tiene la huella de tu puño cerrado,<br />un sello cardenal.<br />Es perfecta la armonía,<br />el sollozo contenido,<br />corazones rabiosos.<br />Nos pienso así:<br />divinos, enlutados,<br />atrincherados en nuestras propias bombas<br />de tiempo.<br />La sumisión,<br />los cerrojos.<br />Ciega soy, estatua rota.<br />Si un dios decadente nos filmara<br />hasta el fin del mundo,<br />aquí estaría<br />roja y liada<br />ante mi hermoso verdugo.<br /><br /><br /><br />THIS IS THE LAST STRAW<br />Mónica Nepote, trans. Becca Klaver<br /><br />My face contains the mark of your closed fist,<br />a bruise stamp.<br />Perfect harmony,<br />contained sobs,<br />rabid hearts.<br />I think of us like this:<br />divine, in mourning,<br />entrenched in our own time<br />bombs.<br />Submission,<br />bolts.<br />I’m blind, a broken statue.<br />If a decadent god filmed us<br />until the end of the world<br />I would be here<br />red and tied<br />before my handsome hangman.beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11261837432902612470noreply@blogger.com0