Jorge Enrique González Pacheco has amassed such a sizable list of titles—poet, lecturer, teacher, filmmaker, co-founder of the Seattle Latino Film Festival, and Seattle Mayor’s Arts Award recipient  see more

 City Art Magazine

(Seattle, WA, USA)

Cuban poet Jorge Enrique González Pacheco makes every word  stand for a hundred or perhaps a thousand others

see more

The Latin American Review of Books

 (London, UK)


  ©  Katherine Wickhorst

Portada de Habitante

New Book

Habitante Invisible

Ediciones Deslinde

92 pages

Madrid, Spain, 2020

The poetry of Gonzalez Pacheco in Invisible Dweller ennobles us as readers, transporting us to a universe where seemingly only words exist. Words and feelings.​

Mirta Ojito is a  Cuban-American Pulitzer Prize Winning Journalist & Writer. 

 Contraportada de Habitante Invisi
00:00 / 01:25
Habitante Invisible
00:00 / 01:24


Cull our loneliness; tis an unspoiled secret youth.


I want to be with you,

within your walls,

within your sundry deaths.


I want to clutch your voice,

make it bear the hours to the fringes

of my stubborn and insatiable yearnings. 


I will always want

the forests, the mantles, the shadows,

open in the distance tearing the air that I breath.


I want a prayer,

an Eden in my serenity, a thought:

an impotent shudder.


I want your crown,

my blood into wine

a chimera in your due time.


I want to come back,

your blue within my home,

perchance in a callow scampering hamlet.


I want my words upon your art,

I shall wear it naked and deaf

by the gleam of its early light.

© Translated from Spanish by Carl Tanne



Elige nuestra soledad; pristina es su juventud secreta.

Quiero estar contigo,
buscarte dentro de tus muros,
de  tus muerte.


Quisiera retener tu voz,
hacerla parir horas que compartan sus lados
mis rígidas e insaciables añoranzas.

Quiero siempre,
los bosques, mantos, sombras,
abiertos a la distancia que rasga mi aire.

Quisiera la oración,
Edén en mi calma, pensamiento:
Temblor, inerme.

Quiero tu corona,
sera de mi sangre el vino
ya quimera en tu momento.

Quisiera volver,

dentro de tu azul mi hogar.
Galopes de pueblo tal vez recientes.

Quiero mi palabra sobre tu arte,
yo  le calzo sordo y desnudo
a inicios de esta luz.