Maureen Altman is a visual artist, poet, and educator. She has been invited to participate in diverse anthologies, iterary magazines, book fairs, and poetry festivals in North, Central, South America and Europe. Altman has given writing workshops in Central America and in New York. She was appointed coordinator in New York of Poetic ducation for the World in 2020 and associate director in 2023. She has published Encuentro, amor, vida, tiempo, 2014, uances, 2017 and Trapecista,in 2019, as part of the Hipatya collection, La Chifurnia Editorial.
Since 2018, Altman has directed EducaArts, a studio dedicated to art. The studio embraces neurotypical and atypical communities and celebrates the students’ artwork with an annual art salon which is open to the public. Altman was born in Georgia, USA. Studied in Lima, Peru, at the Monterrico National Institute of Pedagogy and at the National School of Fine Arts. Later, in New York she studied at Pratt Institute, obtaining a bachelor’s degree in fine arts and at Touro University acquiring a Master of Science in Education and Special Education.
Escorzo
Estamos llenos de ternura,
solo que el humano
se asusta con facilidad.
Imágenes de nuestra estructura
se desbordan en los acantilados
de la esperanza.
Aún,
vamos en círculos,
suspiramos
ante la utopía
de nuestros propios
pensamientos.
Foreshortening
We are full of tenderness,
it is just that humans
easily get frightened.
Images of our structure
overflow the cliffs
of hope.
Yet,
we go in circles,
we sigh
before the utopia
of our own thoughts.
El túnel de las Horas
Imágenes de la Estación Central
Viene,
va,
un segundo
adelanta andares,
una mirada perdida,
el suspiro atragantado,
y un poco de café.
Un tic tac
avanza la risa de aquel
que no aguarda
tren alguno.
Ni va ni viene,
sólo queda
en los pasillos
de su inmediata estación.
¿Quién ha dicho
que no avanzamos
en los subterráneos
del alma?
Cuidado,
mira al caminar.
Tunnel of the Hours
Images of Grand Central Terminal
Comes,
goes,
a second
passes steps,
a lost sight,
the drawn breath.
and some coffee.
A tic tac
overtakes the laughter of the one
who doesn’t wait
for any train.
Doesn’t come, doesn’t go,
alone stays
in the hallways
of an immediate station.
Who said
that we don’t walk
in the subways
of the soul?
Beware,
watch your step.
Verano
En cierto modo,
del azul
y su magnética calma,
me he distanciado.
Tiempo inverosímil.
La estridencia del color
me parece
lo más certero
al resaltar esta corriente
alterna que me tranza.
No opongo resistencia,
los días aparecen
en rojo y lentejuelas.
Mientras
el mundo camina
hacia algún agujero negro,
me pregunto,
cómo es posible,
que tu verano me conmueva
de tal manera
que solo tenga ojos
para elevarme
al centro del universo,
y presentarme luego
allí mismo,
ante
la lógica
de tu inequívoca
mirada.
Summer
Somehow,
from blue
and its magnetic calm,
I have distanced myself.
Unlikely time.
The stridency of color
seems to me
the most accurate
when highlighting
this alternative current
that trances me.
I do not resist,
days appear
in red and sequins.
While the world
walks
towards some black hole,
I wonder,
how is it possible,
that your summer moves me
in such a way
that I only have eyes
to rise
to the center of the universe,
and later
introduce myself
right there,
before the logic
of your unequivocal
gaze.
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