Ylonka Nacidit-Perdomo is a poet,
essayist, and editor. She was born in Santo Domingo, Dominican
Republic and studied law and political sciences at the
Autonomous University of Santo Domingo (UASD). Her poems have
been published in Common Threads Afro-Hispanic,
Women’s Literature, Supplement 14 International Poetry, Y
vamos haciendo camino, Revista Mairena, and
In addition, she has published the poetry books: Contacto de
una mirada (1989), Arrebatos (1993), Luna Barroca
(1996), Papeles de la noche (1998), Octubre
(1998), Triángulo en trébol (1999), Triángulo en
trébol /Triangle in trefoil (2001, translation: Linda
M. Rodríguez Guglielmoni), Hacia el sur (2001), La sombra
del amor (2007) and Contemplación (2007). Also, she has
published the following books on literary criticism:
Alfonsina Storni: A través de sus imágenes y metáforas
(1998), Altagracia Saviñon o la discontinuidad del instante
(1998), Sobreaviso, escritura de mujeres (1998), La
circularidad enigmática de la mirada (2000), and
Contrapunto, Desconcierto y Territorios Afectivos de Mujeres
her book, Altagracia Saviñón o la discontinuidad del instante,
the International Writers and Artists Association awarded her
“Best Editor Essay 1998”.
For various years she held the
position of Literary Research Center Director at the National
Library in Santo Domingo. She now holds the position of
president of the Association of Dominican Literary Criticism of
Hispanic American Women Writers (CDLEH), and directs the
collection entitled “Cotidianas de Estival”. Moreover, she
directs the Founding Committee of Women’s Festivals and directs
the collection “Ventana” of the Solidarity Center for the
Development of Women (Ce-Mujer) in Santo Domingo. In 2002 she
directed the XIII Conferencia de la Asociación Internacional
de Literatura Femenina Hispánica (AILFH) and in 2004 she
directed the 9th International Conference of Caribbean Women
Writers and Scholars.
Comments on her work:
“On the literary map Ylonka
Nacidit Perdomo is the first Dominican of the contemporary
Caribbean neo-baroque”. Luis A. Jimenez, Department of
Modern Languages, Florida Southern College.
“Nacidit-Perdomo is a poet of
love and nature. She uses symbolism to trap the reader within a
beautiful landscape…”. Clementina R. Adams, Clemson
“Surprising and intriguing she
represents a challenge to the reader... The poetic language of
the next century is going to be a version of the language that
inhabits Nacidit-Perdomo’s poetry.”
Linda M. Rodríguez
Guglielmoni, University of Puerto Rico, Mayagüez Campus.
“The marked active glance, the
glance that operates by variation, expansion, opening a map of
the city in constant making...”. Ester Gimbernat Gonzalez,
Northern Colorado University.
triangle in trefoil, perhaps love
fractures sadness? (poem)
by Ylonka Nacidit-Perdomo. Poet of
vertebrae in the throat of the
wave. afternoons. green avenues. silences. windows. grand hours
of saying enough. hurricane. sweet glance. moons that fall at
the humid air of monday. alone quiet. absolute. i return crying
from the rain with yellows melting from your mouth].
there is love: triangle in trefoil.
evanescent paradox. plural. in armistice. presuming it temporal
love: key word of the dislocation.
instant of the irreversible infinitude. space and time. it is
enough to have the night. the indexes of the presence to find
the real numbers of that conditional game between the legs. that
protests before the mirror. in angles of expecting.
once again i read that perennial
image that in sappho’s phrase “...it is far / and I only one
thing would desire / see its light and elastic steps / and the
flashes from its face...”.
love: rain that surprisingly
overwhelms. something that is seen approaching in the oracle
with unicorns. in the representation of quietness. whose access
is achieved through the hour of dream as open syntax under the
shade. in the intimidated distance extended in the mountain. in
diverse ascents towards the light. towards the horizon that
fragments scarabs of grass. the asymmetry of circular time. the
sea on the margins of the sand precisely when the order becomes
full with infinite remnants of color.
i listen that you arrive. you
arrive of sand with lightning that draws the tender tenderness
of your mouth that invades the grilles. the smile mischievous.
the hurry of the clock. your open arms. stealing nights. slums
of doubts. the enclosure that you inhabit. the jacket you drench
love: eternal dislocation.
whirlwind of words. beautiful coincidence provoked. apperceptive
liberty. symbol in synthesis of the fugacity of giving oneself
at the insistence of the instance.
perhaps love fractures sadness? the
romantic saga. to fade out the beloved. the long season of
summer. the writing of the re-encounter in registries of the
itinerant beauty of the myth or territories that look out in
so many times that we have seen
love with the gleam of normality. in a web of ulterior voyages
at inverse. in a sunny siesta re-inventing the origin. the
beginning. the slippery silence. the elliptical fantasy of the
polyvalent intensity. the gestures of the body in multiple
voices. excluding him in the unrestrained fold of a fictive
without doubts. from the other
shore of the text proliferates my surprise at constructing love.
of writing repeated connotations. disparities that are
articulated, that take out appointments and break out in
i do not know if to remain silent.
if to traverse space with fevers of sea].
then i initiate the question that
sappho left when she inaugurated a different canon in occidental
poetics when inscribing sexuality with a superior vision of
beauty and lyrics as aesthetics or image of desire. from her
dissident i. in her reiterated transgression of being suspicious
or culpable of loving “alone.” openly tangible. the breaking
line of the audacious waves against the rocks.
does love have impunity when the
hands fear a caress, the imposed silence? the cards of chance in
the impeccability. in the memory and the intimate version of
fear that pushes towards confinement. to the construction of the
feminine subject in another place and another space. betting at
fiction. to the double standard of a private code?
silent. next to the feminine is
represented the woman with the sound of the wind. with the
intensity of dreaming again the sanctifying conjecture that
adjures of love’s madness. that is re-born in the uproar of
torment. in the interiority-against-memory that refracts one.
two. three faces of the ahistorical “feminine”.
if he would draw again the sleeping
grass. plaintive leaves of the scenery of earth. the schedules
nor the tuesdays nor dark chestnut would matter].
love. the love. the love punctually
advances from itself until it becomes undone in flirtations. in
multiple seduction. it does not resist. it needs a soft hand not
to die. not to return to the glance the encumbrances of the
canon. the inquisitive equilibrium of the phrase. of creation.
i write the most awkward way of
feeling your absence. i do not know if you would come to me
sunning the solitude of the rain. voices of summer. little
pieces of the dew of flowers].
love. the love has a scripture that
dis(arms) its complexity. the coordinates of the limitable and
the night breaks the seashells that
hang from your face. lights from the round window].
there is the departure. the known
body. the explosion of fire. the five senses burning themselves.
erasing the customs. the discursive sexuality. the bindings. the
hypothesis of “i love you” as a refuge or condemnation. as
suicidal voice. ambivalent. manipulating. comprehensive.
one discovers “thanks to love” that
we become prisoners of a fetishistic act. of a growing desire
but, why is love a unique formula
to affirm? the role of the sexes. the antagonism in counterpoint
that orchestrates the dissident and defiant conscience of
rebelliousness. the “dignified” otherness that erases at the end
it happens that today i have no
words. words drive me crazy. the histories para ti. the fire.
the river. the naked bodies. the poetry. poetry that is always
your name. chance. white shirts. the goodbye. the confused
goodbye. the mutual goodbye without a kiss].
this is the plot of love’s
development. a season inhabited by swallows. colds. truncated
winter labyrinths. distance. self configuration. accept the
difference until one survives in the telluric mysteries.
such is love. maker of books whose
recept(o)r reedits with innumerable notes in its daily tentative
attempts. in the meantime the uproars of love fill me with
contradictions and a tumult of sensations.
it is time to abandon the corners
of the room. what nobody knows. what nobody discovers].
Linda M. Rodríguez Guglielmoni