Abarrotes Ave Fenix or The Theme of the Untranslatable

by on March 2, 2024 :: 0 comments

When I remember the corner of Saturno
Down the roadway from the market where I grew up,
Past the façade of another grocery store
Which no longer exists,
I remember the shadows of the old school punks
Who no longer gather there to spike the morning,
Hairspray revenants, tar paving their wings and lungs,
Scarecrow constellations of steel studs and leather,
Outlined in asphalt like
The blotches on the screen that cannot be removed,
Television inside the metro showcasing:
Music videos and a clip featuring the Pope
Where he reflects on the nature of solitude,
And travel,
And your fellow being,
And time,
And returning home,

I think of Borges praising the English language,
His accent and gestures during an interview
Manifested in the living room where I stayed,
A time when color had not reached such transmissions
And had already left the eyes of the writer.

I relate to when he highlights the register
As blooming from its Latin and Germanic roots,
Ghost vs. Spirit or
Forgetting vs. Oblivion
It may be a way back without ever leaving.

editors note:

We all have a way back that we haven’t left. (We welcome Brian to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read a Spanish version of this poem and more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay

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