What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for
I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache
self-conscious looking at the full moon.
In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went
into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!
What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families
shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the
avocados, babies in the tomatoes!--and you, Garcia Lorca, what
were you doing down by the watermelons?

I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber,
poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery
boys.
I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the
pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel?
I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans
following you, and followed in my imagination by the store
detective.
We strode down the open corridors together in our
solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen
delicacy, and never passing the cashier.

Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in
an hour. Which way does your beard point tonight?
(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the
supermarket and feel absurd.)
Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The
trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be
lonely.

Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love
past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage?
Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher,
what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and
you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat
disappear on the black waters of Lethe?

Allen Ginsberg Berkeley, 1955

Kundry Lüthien Belora Luna

Even the slightest butterfly's wing's movement can change the world's destiny...Kundry; the Black Maiden, the sisterhood's summoner, sovereignity goddess, Drakaina, the earth wisdom itself...He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence...No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings...The tigers of wrath are wiser than the houses of instruction...One law for the lion and ox is oppression...Multitud, soledad: términos iguales y convertibles para el poeta activo y fecundo. El que no sabe poblar su soledad, tampoco sabe estar solo en una muchedumbre atareada....He aquí la noche, miga del criminal desvelo; viene a paso de lobo como un cómplice; el cielo como una gran alcoba se cierra lentamente, y se transforma en bestia todo hombre impaciente.

View Full Profile →

La historia no contada de Ayotzinapa y las Normales Rurales

#AyotzinapaSomosTodos

Zoon Politikon Mx

La desaparición de 43 estudiantes de Ayotzinapa por un grupo armado reavivó la discusión sobre las Escuelas Normales Rurales, bastiones de la estrategia educativa en México a principios del siglo XX, que hoy pelean por su supervivencia. Ésta es la historia del olvido y la inanición que ha sufrido por décadas este modelo de educación que hoy agoniza.

Roberto Arteaga y Francisco Muciño / Forbes México

“La mayor parte de nuestras comunidades rurales ofrece, entre numerosas carencias, la de una casi total desorganización, que las sitúa en el más amplio subdesarrollo. Sus niveles económico, social y cultural son apenas perceptibles. Muchas carecen de tierras de cultivo, otras de agua potable y comunicaciones en casi todas. Las causas están diseminadas”, dijo Raúl Isidro Burgos a sus alumnos de la generación 1964-1970 de la Normal de Maestros de Ayotzinapa una tarde de agosto de 1970.
La realidad que retrataba el académico, que…

View original post 2,051 more words

Leave a comment Cancel reply