Writings and Books

Articles in this section

  • By Yanira Marimón

    , by Margaret Randall

    Every year, on the same date
    to V.F. I never wanted to be just one among multitudes. My delusional eyes were accustomed to being spectators at an endless raging circus. I remember it: my feet obeyed the delirious rhythm. Someone shouted: A little faster! Imperiously (or another sort of (...)

  • By Chely Lima

    , by Margaret Randall

    Confused, uncertain, murky, ambiguous
    No one will take notice, that much is clear. You will be confused by your body, your voice trained to sound sweet, inoffensive. But you are you are you are you: A solitary man who lives between two worlds, looks in the mirror and sees only his (...)

  • By Alfredo Zaldívar

    , by Margaret Randall

    THE DOG / by Goya
    If I had to pick one painting at the Prado Museum The Maidens wouldn’t be my choice / too much for me.
    Nor The Surrender of Breda I contemplate sitting on a bench for hours that seemed centuries.
    Not even those drunken faces by Velázquez /my favorite painter, /the piece of (...)

  • By Laura Ruiz Montes

    , by Margaret Randall

    NUMBERS
    In some other city it’s always surprising to find what we expect of this country’s nights. Surprising to find that the scent my grandmother celebrated for years still exists.
    1800 isn’t only an eau de cologne. Neither is it just a number, but something refused at every border yet still (...)

  • THE MORNING AFTER: POETRY AND PROSE IN A POST-TRUTH WORLD

    , by Margaret Randall

    The Morning After
    —To the children
    It’s the morning after and the polar bear licks blood from his foot’s white fur. Ice is jagged and cuts, its islands recede to the beat of human denial. Far to the south: a dying parrot’s heart cries.
    It’s the morning after and beneath the wall long scarring (...)