Said traduce Gramsci traduce Szurmuk

El punto de partida para la elaboración crítica es la conciencia de lo que uno es en realidad y que ‘el conocerse a sí mismo’ es un producto de los procesos históricos que han depositado en uno una infinidad de marcas sin dejar un inventario (16).

arropado tan sólo por el viento

1. put down your stick of chalk
2. get on the train and leave
3. take off all your muletillas
4. pretend you are the clue
5. the clue is underneath the pile of your discarded muletillas
6. the clue is an anagram made with the first letters of the maternal last names of all the passengers in car number eight
7. that’s the car that carried miners south
8. now it’s full of brick masons disguised as chamber musicians disguised as brick masons
9. brick mason is an anagram for
10. you erected a train station using apocryphal desires
11. get on the train and leave
12. whether or not it is right whether or not it is certain
13. put down your stick of chalk
14. put your ear to the panoramic window

autumn lungs

cuerpo sin alma de las colombianitas

in addition to that willow cabin we talked about

Casi obsceno

Si quisieras oír lo que me digo en la almohada
el rubor de tu rostro sería la recompensa
Son palabras tan íntimas como mi propia carne
que padece el dolor de tu implacable recuerdo

Te cuento ¿Sí? ¿No te vengarás un día? Me digo:
Besaría esa boca lentamente hasta volverla roja
Y en tu sexo el milagro de una mano que baja
en el momento más inesperado y como por azar
lo toca con ese fervor que inspira lo sagrado

No soy malvado___Trato de enamorarte
Intento ser sincero con lo enfermo que estoy
y entrar en el maleficio de tu cuerpo
como un río que teme el mar pero siempre muere en él

R. G. Jattin

Almost Obscene

If you’d like to hear what I say into the pillow
the flush from your cheeks could be my reward
The words are as intimate as my own flesh
which bears the pain of your implacable memory

Should I tell you? Will you use it against me someday? I say:
I would kiss that mouth slowly I would turn it red
And between your legs the miracle of a hand that reaches
in the most unexpected moment and as if by chance
touches you with a fervor reserved for sacred things

I'm no villain___I’m trying to make love to you
I’m trying to be honest about my sickness
and to plunge into the your body’s curse
like the river that fears the sea yet always dies in her

whiteface is and whiteface isn't

From Kander and Ebb's musical version of The Scottsboro Boys

If the South is many places and many times running together, I wonder if my desire to defend it isn't is also the desire to mutilate it or mythify it. I can't criticize it until I can live in all those places and times. Would that cause me to internally combust? This is why I need Cornejo Polar.

Richard Wright and William Faulkner were Mississippi born contemporaries, and yet are shelved in different sections of U.S. literary history. They both make walls visible and immobility hurt. Faulkner's walls taste like molasses, and Wright's just taste like concrete with your teeth dug in. But the molasses and the dust come from underneath my tongue. Their books are stacks of ink stained pages. The way we choose to read or look or retell is what gives meaning to history and fiction.

Who sees the murals in the county courtroom? Who needs the obelisk in Linn Part to honor the obelisk in Linn Park? How much was Charles Linn's iron worth? Bibb Graves congratulated Jay Sandlin for shooting Ozie Powell in the head in 1946. Will someone someday write a vampy neo poco minstrel number for Oscar Grant?

article about Oscar Grant: http://www.democracynow.org/2010/7/9/outrage_in_oakland_transit_officer_convicted

the ocean pours from your ears

1. here, take my handkercheif
2. windows trace you
3. pretend it is the sound of hwy 95