![\"\"](\"http:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/07\/HectorUse-350x387.jpg\")
READ LOCAL First\u00a0represents Utah\u2019s\u00a0most comprehensive collection of\u00a0celebrated and promising writers of fiction, poetry, literary nonfiction, and memoir. This month we bring you Hector\u00a0Ahumada, a Chilean poet and naturalized citizen who has lived in Salt Lake City for nearly forty years.\u00a0“Poetry belongs to all genders,” says Hector, a participant in the reading series staged by City Arts.<\/p>\n
The six poems below come from the chapbook, poems by Hector<\/em>, published by the Wanting to Die Poetry Club, <\/em>to which 15 Bytes express gratitude for this re-publication of Hector’s work. The poem,\u00a0<\/em>“To My Trip Companion Khalil,” originally appeared in\u00a0The Highland Travelers<\/em>, Elik Press.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n For more by\u00a0Hector, visit:\u00a0http:\/\/www.poethector.com.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" READ LOCAL First\u00a0represents Utah\u2019s\u00a0most comprehensive collection of\u00a0celebrated and promising writers of fiction, poetry, literary nonfiction, and memoir. This month we bring you Hector\u00a0Ahumada, a Chilean poet and naturalized citizen who has lived in Salt Lake City for nearly forty years.\u00a0“Poetry belongs to all genders,” says Hector, a participant […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1566,"featured_media":45699,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[69,35,2513],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-45697","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-daily-bytes","category-literary-arts","category-read-local-first"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/07\/HectorUse.jpg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"publishpress_future_action":{"enabled":false,"date":"2026-04-25 15:20:39","action":"change-status","newStatus":"draft","terms":[],"taxonomy":"category","extraData":[]},"publishpress_future_workflow_manual_trigger":{"enabledWorkflows":[]},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/45697","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1566"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=45697"}],"version-history":[{"count":15,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/45697\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":70691,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/45697\/revisions\/70691"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/45699"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=45697"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=45697"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=45697"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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\n <\/p>\nA Materialist Tale – Anti-poem<\/strong><\/h4>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/strong>To corrupted thinkers<\/em><\/h4>\n
Once upon a time, there was a poet<\/h4>\n
who wanted to know.<\/h4>\n
The answer to the old question<\/h4>\n
of what is the relation of politic to philosophy.<\/h4>\n
But his granddaughter pursued him<\/h4>\n
to question something else by saying:<\/h4>\n
“Abuelo-grandpa, the meaning of my existence is to love my father and mother,<\/h4>\n
and the purpose of my life is to eat<\/h4>\n
dark chocolate.<\/h4>\n
And you “abuelo” are my chocolate provider.<\/h4>\n
The relationship of philosophy and politics,<\/h4>\n
is to render the truth of politics<\/h4>\n
with the truth of artistic creations.<\/h4>\n
Haaa?<\/h4>\n
Can you repeat that please,<\/h4>\n
but allow me to finish my energy drink first?<\/h4>\n
This is not Poetry; this is an indoctrination into a new way of thinking.<\/h4>\n
I have to warn you that I have a PhD<\/h4>\n
in Floral Arrangements.<\/h4>\n
That I read all the latest USA Laureate poets, including Felipe Herrera.<\/h4>\n
Once upon a time, it was not true<\/h4>\n
that any opinion is worth<\/h4>\n
as much as any other opinion.<\/h4>\n
That Plato discussed with young people<\/h4>\n
how to distinguish between correct<\/h4>\n
and mistaken opinions.<\/h4>\n
Once upon a time,<\/h4>\n
democracy was in trouble in USA.<\/h4>\n
And the absolute truth was in silence<\/h4>\n
as always.<\/h4>\n
The academic poets essential concern<\/h4>\n
was their unpaid educational loans.<\/h4>\n
And cash compensation was available<\/h4>\n
to the persons exposed to Anti-poetry.<\/h4>\n
\n <\/p>\nFictional Speculations:<\/strong><\/h4>\n
To poetic fiction<\/em><\/h4>\n
<\/h4>\n
Let’s assume that the man is asleep in delusion,<\/h4>\n
hunted by useless habits of daily chores.<\/h4>\n
Consumed by his thoughts and desires,<\/h4>\n
the man does not want to wake up.<\/h4>\n
His false pride imprisons his soul.<\/h4>\n
The man earns his living, eats one or two times a day<\/h4>\n
and amuses himself with his cell phone.<\/h4>\n
The meaning of his existence is to google<\/h4>\n
and the purpose of his life is to delete.<\/h4>\n
He remains in deep passion with his material world.<\/h4>\n
He forgot the old purpose of his life,<\/h4>\n
and the symbolic dimension of his social existence.<\/h4>\n
The economic activities of his life,<\/h4>\n
has produced enormous amount of wealth.<\/h4>\n
He think that the image of G-d is the image of humanity,<\/h4>\n
but, it is something too hard to believe.<\/h4>\n
He knows that he is not the judge of mankind.<\/h4>\n
He believe that his radical protestant skepticism<\/h4>\n
will absolve him in this life or in a life to come.<\/h4>\n
The man is disinterested in the rest of humanity.<\/h4>\n
\n <\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/07\/thumbnail_IMG_3391-350x467.jpg\")
<\/h4>\nLate Saturday<\/strong><\/h4>\n
<\/h4>\n
The music of violins and cellos.<\/h4>\n
The aroma of coffee and cheesecake.<\/h4>\n
The consciousness, sub-consciousness.<\/h4>\n
The moral and ethic of my parents.<\/h4>\n
The photographer, his wife<\/h4>\n
and the editor of a local newspaper.<\/h4>\n
An old man carrying a green bag.<\/h4>\n
The young woman with a nose ring.<\/h4>\n
The decay of democracy.<\/h4>\n
The material abundance of capitalism.<\/h4>\n
The yoga, meditation and therapies.<\/h4>\n
The estimated two billion neurons<\/h4>\n
of my brain.<\/h4>\n
The cybernetic scams<\/h4>\n
and multiple conspiracies.<\/h4>\n
The six hundred and thirteen<\/h4>\n
commandments of the Jews.<\/h4>\n
The ten evil things of the Buddhists.<\/h4>\n
The chess players.<\/h4>\n
The breasts of a woman<\/h4>\n
under a green blouse.<\/h4>\n
The irrational-rational expectations<\/h4>\n
of relationships.<\/h4>\n
The painful gifts of Nature.<\/h4>\n
The indifference and rejection of old people.<\/h4>\n
The emails, texts and phone calls<\/h4>\n
empty of meaning.<\/h4>\n
The language, the thoughts and words.<\/h4>\n
The images, symbols and meaning.<\/h4>\n
The empty chairs and leftovers on tables.<\/h4>\n
The music of a piano, the poem.<\/h4>\n
\n <\/p>\nSara<\/strong><\/h4>\n
To Syrian girls<\/em><\/h4>\n
<\/h4>\n
Her name was Sara.<\/h4>\n
She was thirteen year old.<\/h4>\n
A missile exploded in her room.<\/h4>\n
What traditional pattern should I use to write this poem?<\/h4>\n
What poetic expressions should I use<\/h4>\n
to give coherence and continuity to this event?<\/h4>\n
The girl’s dead body was trapped<\/h4>\n
under cement and brick fragments.<\/h4>\n
While her home was consumed by the fire.<\/h4>\n
The poets of the modern world had sung against:<\/h4>\n
Nazism, Communism, Capitalism and dehumanization.<\/h4>\n
Their authentic and sincere voices have not ignored:<\/h4>\n
injustice, genocide and occupation.<\/h4>\n
The body of the girl was just a mass of burned flesh and bones.<\/h4>\n
Perhaps is the time to create new poetic expressions<\/h4>\n
to denounce the ideologies of the creators of wars.<\/h4>\n
Her name was Sara, she was thirteen year old,<\/h4>\n
and I found no Poetry for her.<\/h4>\n
\n <\/p>\nTo My Trip Companion Khalil<\/strong><\/h4>\n
<\/h4>\n
Although father and son,<\/h4>\n
we are so different.<\/h4>\n
At the core of our souls<\/h4>\n
he is one, and I the other one.<\/h4>\n
We speak the same languages.<\/h4>\n
I have no ambitions,<\/h4>\n
but the intense desire to write.<\/h4>\n
He seldom reads my poems.<\/h4>\n
He is my beloved one.<\/h4>\n
We do not pray together.<\/h4>\n
We sit on the opposite<\/h4>\n
ends of the garden.<\/h4>\n
In an every day acceptance<\/h4>\n
with tolerance in time,<\/h4>\n
we perceive the same differently<\/h4>\n
We are united by love.<\/h4>\n
\n <\/p>\nSong to my Robotic Lover<\/strong><\/h4>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 To Anglo-Saxon Intellectuals<\/em><\/h4>\n
<\/h4>\n
Let me touch your nipples,<\/h4>\n
while you talk to me about:<\/h4>\n
unconsciousness, the ego,<\/h4>\n
paranoia, schizophrenia,<\/h4>\n
addiction, libido and death.<\/h4>\n
Let me blow my warm breath<\/h4>\n
over your pubic hair,<\/h4>\n
while you read me about:<\/h4>\n
existential reflections,<\/h4>\n
puritanical convictions,<\/h4>\n
stream of consciousness,<\/h4>\n
images, symbols<\/h4>\n
and the obscure academic jargon.<\/h4>\n
Pour me another glass<\/h4>\n
of postmodern ideas<\/h4>\n
and capitalistic desires.<\/h4>\n
Use silence to manipulate<\/h4>\n
my dogmatic expression of discontent.<\/h4>\n
Give me more<\/h4>\n
than the softness of your thighs<\/h4>\n
and your academic accomplishments.<\/h4>\n
Perhaps, one day you will understand<\/h4>\n
that, I am not the one who you think<\/h4>\n
I am.<\/h4>\n
And you are not the one who I think<\/h4>\n
you are.<\/h4>\n
I came from water, I am and I am not,<\/h4>\n
and I am going to dust and worms.<\/h4>\n
Let me penetrate you,<\/h4>\n
while you whisper into my left ear:<\/h4>\n
politics, ethic, metaphysics,<\/h4>\n
investment loans and profit.<\/h4>\n
While you reveal to me<\/h4>\n
the meta-language of the intellectuals<\/h4>\n
and I stop feeling this sick compulsion<\/h4>\n
to justify my thinking.<\/h4>\n
<\/h4>\n
Imperialism and its effects<\/h4>\n
on the rest of this planet.<\/h4>\n
The idea that that USA, England,<\/h4>\n
Germany and Scandinavian nations<\/h4>\n
can enjoy the wealth of this earth<\/h4>\n
with greed, hate and delusion<\/h4>\n
is presented in academic realms<\/h4>\n
as The Will of some Unknown Entity.<\/h4>\n
The attractive Delicatessen attendant<\/h4>\n
brings me the bill.<\/h4>\n
I see fields of yellow, white and red tulips,<\/h4>\n
wind-mills, a trail and boats in a sea channel.<\/h4>\n
A battalion of German soldiers<\/h4>\n
marching under a cloudy Autumn sky.<\/h4>\n
\n <\/p>\nFragment of a Postmodern Ecclesiastes – Anti-poem<\/strong><\/h4>\n
<\/h4>\n
There is a time for almost everything.<\/h4>\n
A time to laugh, a time to cry.<\/h4>\n
A time for beef, a time for lamb.<\/h4>\n
A time to make mistakes, a time to apologize.<\/h4>\n
A time to believe, a time to disbelieve.<\/h4>\n
A time to be smart, a time to be dumb.<\/h4>\n
A time to look, a time to close the eyes.<\/h4>\n
A time to eat, a time to lose weight.<\/h4>\n
A time to accept, a time to criticize.<\/h4>\n
A time to sleep, a time to be awake.<\/h4>\n
A time to love, a time to hate.<\/h4>\n
A time to resent, a time to forgive.<\/h4>\n
A time to be yourself, a time to be someone else.<\/h4>\n
A time to recognize your ignorance, a time to ask for help.<\/h4>\n
A time to be animal, a time to be rational.<\/h4>\n
A time to have sex with another, a time to masturbate.<\/h4>\n
A time to tell the truth, a time to keep your mouth shut.<\/h4>\n
A time to understand life, a time to run around like a chicken with no<\/h4>\n
head.<\/h4>\n
There is a time and a place for almost everything.<\/h4>\n
A place?<\/h4>\n
Please do not make me repeat the anti-poem again.<\/h4>\n
<\/h4>\n
\n <\/p>\n