Last day of class

Ello es que el lugar donde me pongo el pantalón, es una casa donde me quito la camisa en alta voz y donde tengo un suelo, un alma, un mapa de mi España. Ahora mismo hablaba de mí conmigo, y ponía sobre un pequeño libro un pan tremendo y he, luego, hecho el traslado, he … More Last day of class

Václav Havel

Václav Havel is one of the people about whom I do not know enough. The Nation had a piece on Havel and Occupy, quoting interesting texts by him from the sixties and seventies that shed shocking light on the present moment. I would like to point to it and read it again. Eventually it will … More Václav Havel

Adrienne Rich

…with the rowboat ice-fast on the shore in the last red light of the year that knows what it is, that knows it’s neither ice nor mud nor winter light but wood, with a gift for burning Axé.

Wislawa Szymborska

Hunger Camp at Jasło Write it. Write. In ordinary ink on ordinary paper: they were given no food, they all died of hunger. “All. How many? It’s a big meadow. How much grass for each one?” Write: I don’t know. History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, as … More Wislawa Szymborska

Alfonsina Storni

A nice letter to the Republicans. TU ME QUIERES alba, Me quieres de espumas, Me quieres de nácar. Que sea azucena Sobre todas, casta. De perfume tenue. Corola cerrada Ni un rayo de luna Filtrado me haya. Ni una margarita Se diga mi hermana. Tú me quieres nívea, Tú me quieres blanca, Tú me quieres … More Alfonsina Storni