he fought the concept of fatherhood itself today

he was bleeding on the ground battered by his pain

glasgow smile adorning his face

what lies at the end of the corridor he doesn’t want to see ever again

it dimmed the fire inside of him permanently

here in this house we can still hear the broken promises

it’s in the piping system

it whines

one day it’ll be replaced

unless the ivy plants that grow inside of it

drag the whole system down into hell

everything will be dragged down along with it

it’ll leave a hole in the administrative records

just like the hole it left in his heart

—

Piedras Negras, Estado Libre y Soberano de Coahuila de Zaragoza, 2001

Obituario: Jaime Lorenzo Gutiérrez (???- 30 septiembre 2001, a las 9:34)

El hombre de ninguna parte, que causó intensa alegría en todo aquél que cruzó su camino.

Se encontró este mensaje manuscrito sobre su cuerpo, escrito en inglés:

“thrown headfirst in an altered state of divinity

I see outside myself

a child angel floating over the ruins of a derelict steel mill

littered with sharp surfaces and occasions to commune

with the specter of death“

Que su alma repose con Dios.

—

I was 6 the first time I attended the procession to the fountain in the desert

I couldn’t walk straight on the sand, barefooted as I was

I couldn’t utter a word, it would break the spell

the spell that allowed us to survive the long walk ahead

we walked through a canyon at some point

silver-coated coyotes oversaw the transport

that’s how I knew we had crossed worlds

I had lost sight of my mother in the crowd

a ghost overheard my cries and picked me up

cradled me in their arms and pressed me against their body

I was overcome by comforting warmth and looked forward

toward the rest of the pack marching forth

into the copper hued cathedral halls of the desert

I remained wide awake

I cry when I try to remember that procession

I can only remember the warmth

I can’t wait to find my way back

to the fountain in the desert

one last time