
The Time I Led A Code at the Airport
The strangest thing I see is the transition between deadness and aliveness, the way this man’s face gets filled again as though with something. Continue reading The Time I Led A Code at the Airport
The strangest thing I see is the transition between deadness and aliveness, the way this man’s face gets filled again as though with something. Continue reading The Time I Led A Code at the Airport
Cuando teníamos seis años, Lidia existía. Continue reading Lidia
On a facebook video, gone viral, of the afternoon, electric, a woman, age indecipherable, stood, moved to tears, atop a building, watching as people went by singing down on the streets of Viejo San Juan, painting themselves clear, into perfect focus, such that everybody anywhere in the world could see, could hear, the Pueblo that had found and seen itself, the one that had always ex- isted, and the power to exist with dignity that has always been ours. Continue reading The lady at the top of the building
Una pareja, una Boricua y un Americano, tiene un bebé, pero algo ocurre. ¿Tú sabes cómo a veces dices una mentira y se sigue complicando, y crece tanto la ficción que lo envuelve todo? Continue reading Pequeña mentira blanca
¿Qué es eso a lo que llamamos consciencia, y cómo forma la memoria —cuando recordamos, cuando amamos, cuando olvidamos? ¿Es un mismo ente “quién es” y “quién recuerda haber sido”? ¿ A dónde va quien parece desaparecer con la enfermedad? ¿ Y cuánto de la creación artística es repositorio de la memoria? ¿Cuánto es locura? La poesía sigue preguntando. Continue reading Habemus El libro azul