Limited Edition of 50
Pseudo Friends In Collaboration With:
Valerie Mejer, Antoine Beach-Bey, Kevin Burno, George Kessler, Max Perrott, Bryn Perrott, Rachel Feldhaus, Tabor Hollingsworth, Marilyn Bayer, Blake Karolcik, Kelsey Severson, Shane Harris


Full Length Foreword

English Translations:

Without Republic
(Sin República pp 05)

Every day something unbelievable happens, I recorded that sentence of the report. It was already late, there were two visible formations of birds that indicated it was almost 8 o’clock. We had walked on stones that didn’t come from the living stream this basin had been, but from shacks destroyed by the force of the water, the wind, the lack of money. Things don’t stop happening like this, but they remind me that I saw you pass by almost a month ago, enormous tall like a building, devouring the equilibrium of the territory seen through my window. I arrived at the place where I’d seen you, a barren field where someday a more earth-colored house would be built and on the wall was written “I love you” and in the corner were my initials, even though I hadn’t written this, it’s true that I would’ve wanted to, as I would’ve wanted you to calm down it’s true but you were already unrecognizable. But right now I hear a ball, my black dog watches the dry stream where we just were and her eyes are that unbelievable thing that happens in this country today, which has a house and inside, a chair where I now write this. The chair bears the melancholy of my incredible country that isn’t mine, like the saint bears the crimes that happened in the stream before it dried up. A child full of screams, with his face at peace, a dog that watches him, a chair that bears everything inside of the house, facing a stream where an imaginary water runs within a country, within a world that lifts its punctual waves and it’s the moon who always, always raises them up like promises always, always later leaving, inevitably to crash down.

Halfway around the world
(A la mitad del mundo pp 31)

a man’s face covered in coal
a crown of thorns and a brass ring
halfway around the world, halfway around the world
a Roman Soldier and his Mexican profile
sphinx of flesh and bone and gallant helmet
halfway around the world, halfway around the world
with his bowed head and crown of thorns
his jet-black hair or Good Friday coal
halfway around the world, halfway around the world
your head can be a tuba as tall as the tree
of all your gathered thoughts
halfway around the world, halfway around the world
like a wall of ice the photographs
that mix filthy light with the presence of the neighbor
halfway around the world, halfway around the world
a young woman dressed like confetti, the air’s bride,
and another maskless queen, her tiara shining
halfway around the world, halfway around the world
hundreds of incessant prayers chanted
on the street of the wounded pig, an infinite flood
halfway around the world
suddenly it seems everything could be a mask
and the faces could be endlessly substituted
halfway around the world
it rained and rained and we made a house of sticks
and silver, we’d always imagine the shadow
halfway around the world
where luck doesn’t dare
look at God neither naked nor asleep
halfway around the world, halfway around the world