Now literary is a big word, but just because we have no university here doesn’t mean we can’t aspire. So here it is the debut column into the wondrous world of poetry. I’ll be featuring a poet a month with a brief bio and an example of their work. Our first poet is a native son, Octavio Paz.

Octavio was born in Mexico City in 1914 and died there in 1998. He lived, wrote and worked during that amazing period of artistic fecundity that encompassed the greats like Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. He was an international diplomat, a prose writer and a poet.



Homage to Claudius Ptolemy


I am a man: little do I last

and the night is enormous.

But I look up:

the stars write.

Unknowing I understand:

I too am written,

and at this very moment

someone spells me out.



Homenaje a Claudio Ptolomeo


Soy hombre: duro poco

y es enorme la noche.

Pero miro hacia arriba:

las estrellas escriben.

Sin entender comprendo:

también soy escritura

y en este mismo instante

alguien me deletrea.


From A Tree Within

Translated by Eliot Weinberger


During his lifetime Octavio formed several literary societies. Surely we can manage to form one here in Puerto Peñasco. Let’s gather; perhaps in one of our lovely coffee houses.


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