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