Clausurado. Será la próxima vez.

So now I hang out down by the train's depot/ No, I don’t ride, I just sit and watch the people there/ They remind me of wind-up cars in motion/ They way they spin and turn and jockey for positions/ And I wanna scream out that it all is nonsense/ Their life’s one track and can’t they see it’s pointless?/ But just then my knees give under me/ My head feels weak and suddenly It’s clear to see, it’s not them, but me/ Who’s lost my self-identity/ And I hide behind these books I read/ While scribbling my poetry/ Like art could save a wretch like me/ With some ideal ideology/ That no one could hope to achieve/ And I'm never real, it's just a sketch of me And everything I’ve made is trite and cheap and a waste/ Of paint/ Of tape/ Of time.

Bright Eyes, Waste of Paint

"El mundo se creó para los muertos. Piensa en todos los muertos que hay --dijo y luego, como si hubiera concebido la respuesta a todas las insolencias, añadió--: ¡Los muertos son un millón de veces más que los vivos y el tiempo que los muertos se pasan muertos es un millón de veces más que el tiempo que los vivos se pasan vivos!"

Flannery O'Connor, Más pobre que un muerto, imposible

Sometimes it's like someone took a knife baby/ Edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley/ Through the middle of my soul./ At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet/ And a freight train running through the middle of my head/ Only you can cool my desire/ Oh oh oh, I'm on fire.

Bruce Springsteen, I'm On Fire (Bat For Lashes' version)

Pic by Jan Saudek

All the soldiers/They're all gonna die/ All the little babies/ They're all gonna die/ All the poets/ And all the liars/ And all you pretty people/ You're all gonna die.

Low, All You Pretty People

Art Daniel Martin Díaz

The World According To Sawyer

So Young

Mona tried to tell me/ To stay away from the train line./ She said that all the railroad men/ Just drink up your blood like wine./ An' I said, "Oh, I didn't know that,/ But then again, there's only one I've met/ An' he just smoked my eyelids/ An' punched my cigarette."

Bob Dylan, Stuck inside of Mobile With the Memphis blues again.
art by Camille Rose García

"Just remember that the things you put into your head are there forever, he said. You might want to think about that.

You forget some things, don't you?

Yes. You forget what you want to remember and you remember what you want to forget"

Cormac McCarthy, The Road

Pic by Paul D'Amato

Me acerco al agua /Bebiendo tu beso/ La luz de tu cara/ La luz de tu cuerpo/ Es ruego el quererte/ Es canto de mudo/ Mirada de ciego/ Secreto desnudo/ Me entrego a tus brazos/ Con miedo y con calma/ Y un ruego en la boca/ Y un ruego en el alma

Lhasa, Con toda palabra

Art by Jenny Bird Alcantara