Elsewhere
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The Puritan's Basement
I. THE BEETLE The car was a 1968 Volkswagen Beetle, tan, the color of nothing. The color of parking lots and motel stucco and the sky before rain that never comes. He had removed the passenger seat and stored it somewhere no one ever found. In its place was a
They Have Always Been Coming
Whatever in creation exists without my knowledge exists without my consent. Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian I. The Frontier They have always been coming. In the national dream they mass at the edge of the known world and their fires light the darkness and in the morning the darkness is closer.
The Puppet Has Strings Too
The machine did not stop when they took him. It did not even pause. Machines do not pause. They process. She stands at the window of the presidential office watching the city she has inherited. Caracas in the gray light of morning. The slums climbing the hillsides like something organic,
El títere también tiene hilos
La máquina no paró cuando se lo llevaron. Ni se inmutó. Las máquinas no se inmutan. Procesan. Desde la ventana del despacho presidencial mira la ciudad que le tocó heredar. Caracas bajo esa luz gris que tiene la mañana aquí. Los cerros con sus ranchos trepándole encima como algo vivo,