Brother Brick

Hermanos: ruego a ustedes que se conviertan en estrellas.

—Ricardo Flores Magón

Maybe it's the sun storms

Or maybe it's the oil in the oil,

Or the good news that we're innocent again.

Triumph of the Actual

"...and in the ensuing silence I tried hard to imagine my poems' relation to Franco's mass graves, how my poems could be said meaningfully to bear on the deliberate and systematic destruction of a people or a planet, the abolition of classes, or in any sense constitute a significant political intervention. I tried hard to imagine my poems or any poems as machines that could make things happen, changing the government or the economy or even their language, the body or its sensorium, but I could not imagine this, could not even imagine imagining it. And yet when I imagined the total victory of those other things over poetry, when I imagined, with a sinking feeling, a world without even the terrible excuses for poems that kept faith with the virtual possibilities of the medium, ... then I intuited an inestimable loss, a loss not of artworks but of art, and therefore infinite, the total triumph of the actual, and I realized that, in such a world, I would swallow a bottle of white pills."

—Ben Lerner, Leaving the Atocha Station

In the water where the city ends

Earth Control