Beatriz Saavedra Gastélum (Mexico)

Beatriz Saavedra Gastélum
(World Poetry Curated by Agron Shele)

She currently directs the literary creation workshop “Alicia Reyes” in the Alfonsina Chapel (INBAL), since 2017, in addition to coordinating the cycle of conferences “The poetics of intelligence” at the Museum of Women (UNAM) since the year 2016. In addition, she is an active collaborator in the radio program “Mujeres a la tribuna” on Citizen Radio 660, IMER, where she presents a monthly program of “Poetics of intelligence”, she also makes a weekly literary capsule on TV for the program “Hilando concepts ”ASTL.TV. He was born in Culiacán, Sinaloa (May 6, 1971), currently resides in Mexico City. He has studied Literature, Poetry and Philosophy. He completed a Master’s degree in advanced studies of Spanish and Latin American literature at the University of Barcelona, Spain (2015-2016). She is currently co-director of Editorial Floricanto A.C. (Independent Editorial) where she has participated as editor in more than 21 books since 2004, she is also director of La Casa Estudio de Crítica Literaria CDMX. To date, he has 8 books of poetry published, -Sueño obscuro que somos (2004), Luz de otra sombra (2014), Engarzados o Recursos del Oblido (2016), Last Night (2016), Al filo de tu piel (2016) , Omen in oblivion (2017), Fugitive pages (2018), In the open in time (2019) and an essay book, Anatomy of eroticism in Griselda Álvarez (2018), her work has been included in a large number of anthologies , magazines and national and international newspapers, his poems have been translated into Indigenous Languages, French, English, Dutch and German.






I know I’m living here

my death

and also the cold

that perfection of sharing dry lips

when I hide or caress fear,

the delirious sky

which leads to the act

possible to have died.



I know I suffer from the word inert,

of the mysterious vein that we ignore

because I learned by heart

turn the page

cry the mistreated wave youth

in the form of a knot


A language is spoken that no one understands

in the thin itinerary of the dead

without ever finding the way

that removes its appearance.


I cover my face

the inaugural form of sediment always on the run.

I must run too

to the precarious virtue of my eyes.



I don’t want to prolong

the brief moment.


sunken eyes

in the fragile silence of the poem.

Return my stiff body

to your daily ordeal.



I had to end my life

to hide the extension that extends,

the untold secret

in the reverse of time,

I shake

and I come back.


of loving wife

to a quiet grave



living is also

close the eyes

let sleep overwhelm us

in the hasty step

of sudden death.







The world sails in me

and oblivion,

what i could dream

over your body.


Poured into useless debate

with no more will than your skin

and memory.



I don’t look at me

your voice faded,

the unpronounceable caress

in the word of supplication.


Your skin

as attire of the world


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