Hugo Cuevas-Mohr es un escritor y poeta nacido en Guatemala, criado en Colombia y vive en los Estados Unidos desde 1992. Ha publicado, en ingles y español, libros, albums, podcasts, videos y documentales.

a family

a family we are a blue family tender filaments entwine our glances our fingers our souls a scent of fresh air weaves our dreams together our footsteps our hopes love throbs slowly silently awaiting a gesture a touch. we are a translucent family and the moon embraces us and the night takes care of us…

the valiant ones

the valiant ones so many graves so many killed in combat so many bullets so many senseless tombstones so much honor to so many wars so many monuments to victorious battles to lost battles to the generals to the unknown soldier to nameless tragedy of bloodstained death so much history of violence so many widows…

silence

silence silence I need silence silence I insist on silence silence that the city would quiet down that the street would stand still that radios would disappear that cars would pause I need silence silence I want no voices, no shouting no sudden departures no shooting or terror no speeches or commands no murmuring I…

with you

with you I want to caress your hair until you fall asleep, see you smile lying beside me, touch your lips with my fingers and know that you are here, be so close to you that I can sense your body without your realizing that I am hidden… dreaming every night of you.

vibrations

vibrations vibrations in the red that I share with you, from the first infrared to the last one that hurries along, deepening the hues to distort the shadows, and I know that with red I can be myself and with red you can be too, as if we could share, in an instant, the same…

so blue

so blue if I could put a smile in your hand, and put my eyes in your eyes, unhurriedly if I could just put my hand between your hair and my feelings, if I could feel free, all the way from your skin to my caresses, from my time to your outermost limits. I would…

your eyes

vibrations vibrations in the red that I share with you, from the first infrared to the last one that hurries along, deepening the hues to distort the shadows, and I know that with red I can be myself and with red you can be too, as if we could share, in an instant, the same…

I can’t hear

I can’t hear I can’t hear it seems that is what’s befallen me I can’t hear I can’t see it seems that is what’s befallen me I can’t see I walk on side streets I pass over people I walk without looking, without hearing, I forget and continue on I fall short I miss the…