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October 27, 2009


If, instead of threatening,
I could have committed. Zapata’s

travels were long and fatiguing,
his wanderings were spoiled by the flames,

which shone brightly on the white
plain. A few tears from the bliss

of my friend – I cannot imagine
the sufferings, I wrote to a great mirror.


While the modern system raises
the funeral wail, Zapata strove to act

in a soft voice, and bent wood
and leaves as if under the table.

I dreaded to behold the busy heavens
answer. Learn from land –

Zapata’s fundamental idea –
that all these men were his country.


But you are to yield. In my
cloak, papa! An eye. Zapata had

a far different situation.
They were bound. It directed

his steps towards the valley. He
will shine on us as disappearance.

One Comment leave one →
  1. erogk7 permalink
    October 29, 2009 11:59 am

    Section 2 is great. The first two stanzas remind me of a line in one of the Heart of Darkness sonnets:

    There is
    a way of resisting without moving a
    limb, without clamor, without even
    taking the trouble to keep them off.

    A lot like Zizek's idea that sometimes there is nothing radical that can be done (openly) that won't be co-opted and made to feed the system, so perhaps doing nothing is the correct choice. But how does one decide in the present circumstances if this is true? Zapata is mythologized here in what seems at first to be an almost Ghandian figure in its popular manifestation ("a soft voice"), but which reveals itself to be more akin to the silent lurking plotter (anarchist terrorist) working "under the table." So I wonder if he is working against the modern system's "funeral wail" or one orchestrator of its demise. Maybe both.

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