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Jeremy's journal

A willingness to let things wash over you can be the difference between sublimity and seasickness.

Garth Risk Hallberg


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Anoche soñaba contigo y con el abuelo.

Miramos al oeste donde se crepusculaba
y me apretaste la mano mientras
me explicabas la ausencia de los padres
y la furia del viejo.

Y encima de todo y atrás de todo se parecía
rondar el rostro y el ceño hostil de él, de Pablo Josner.
Voy soñando y lo que sueño no me parece tal sueño.

--

from journals of Lorenzo Josner (undated)

posted morning of Saturday, January 26th, 2013
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(thanks much to Pelele and the muchacha recostada for the first line)

posted morning of January 26th, 2013 by Jeremy

Last night I dreamed of you, and of grandfather.

We looked to the west where the dusk was blossoming
and you held my hand, and talked to me
about the matter of our parents' absence
and of the old man's rage.

And above us and beneath us and behind us was floating
his face, his hostile glare, him, Pablo Josner.
I'm dreaming and my dream seems not a dream.

posted afternoon of January 26th, 2013 by Lorenzo Josner Ávala

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