sofía (sofiiaa) (Mexico)'s Recent Status Updates Showing 1-30 of 2,515

sofía is on page 17 of 128 of The Natural Hustle: Poems

How do we quantify missing?
The leaves that have not yet turned.
The slap of autumn in the lung.
Requisite bite. Sharp sunslap smell.
The silk of it.

— Nov 18, 2024 07:46PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 15 of 128 of The Natural Hustle: Poems

... I skulked around those mould-drowned
rooms in your rotten longjohns and felt a love
for you so perfect it was indistinguishable from
mourning. My love was so much more impeccable
than any human man, you may as well have died.
One imagines how it felt, in the crosshairs.

— Nov 11, 2024 06:52PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 15 of 128 of The Natural Hustle: Poems

On Raglan Road, you hair started to go grey,
I want to say prematurely, except we weren’t
so young. Mature is a polite word for it; but you
might say we skipped that part, headed straight
to rotten.

— Nov 11, 2024 06:52PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 15 of 128 of The Natural Hustle: Poems

I’ve got no game. Anyhow, if I did, what would
we ever laugh about? I don’t believe everyone
loves a winner, but I do believe we all crack
up sooner of later for a dirty joke, a groaner—
everyone loves a class clown, at least once,
at least briefly, because everyone loves a punchline
or a punching bag; everyone’s punch-drunk, one time.

— Nov 11, 2024 06:51PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 14 of 128 of The Natural Hustle: Poems

... why am I not so fine
as that, to be sprinkled, scattered,
parcelled out among friends and eaten
by the wind coming hard over the water
tonight, coming for the lightest of us
first, the incinerated grain of that darkness
you always saw in her, didn’t you,
the fire, manifest.

— Nov 10, 2024 03:48PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 14 of 128 of The Natural Hustle: Poems

Why should they? Why should anyone
do anything she doesn’t want to do,
like live, for example, survive?
Why should I survive the death
of another too-young woman,
another cracked mirror image,
headed for the crematorium floor,
a fine dust...

— Nov 10, 2024 03:48PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 13 of 128 of The Natural Hustle: Poems

...The water and sky meld like this year’s
dead, consolidate. They are one thing, they
are everything. Grey rain on greyglass,
grey waves beyond, grey sky, grey clouds,
broken grey England one grey ocean away;
and the grey slog beyond 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕: tomorrow,
its brood of facsimiles, ashes and salt,
grey by dampening grey. And like breath…

— Oct 29, 2024 08:46PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 11 of 128 of The Natural Hustle: Poems

Mostly it’s just quiet here,
and the light wind,
and singing air.
You might dream he wrote you a letter.
He did not write you a letter.
Look at that tree!
No one has written you
a letter.

— Oct 28, 2024 08:06PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 10 of 128 of The Natural Hustle: Poems

If you get far enough from the water, everything’s
so dry already it’s drycleaned; except for the liquor
store cashiers, and the dollarstore stickyfingers, and the
rich, knackered, cash-creased mothers who are as desperate
to abuse the substance of themselves as the rest of us.

— Oct 28, 2024 03:10PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 3 of 128 of The Natural Hustle: Poems

... yellow, and I thought of the stories
nations tell themselves, continual reframings
within which the machinations of

love death & personal politics grind on like
bagpipes or knives—Gargle gargle the
raucous tears of the dispossessed.

— Oct 28, 2024 02:43PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 3 of 128 of The Natural Hustle: Poems

Yes, that’s right I thought: take a good
long look. Sing it, Miracles. I squinted on into
the sun and thought of Russians and death

and that Spanish lemon painter you told me
about, of how he painted lemons yellow
as the jaundiced summer moon...

— Oct 28, 2024 02:42PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 12 of 240 of The First Four Books of Poems

Now squeezed from thanks the woman’s lemonade lies
In my cup. As endlessly she picks
Her spent Kleenex into dust, always
Staring at that man, hearing the click
Click of his brain’s whirling empty spindle…

— Sep 16, 2024 12:16PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 10 of 240 of The First Four Books of Poems

Love, you ever want me, don’t.

— Sep 14, 2024 11:35AM Add a comment

sofía is on page 8 of 240 of The First Four Books of Poems

Always nights I feel the ocean
Biting at my life. By
Inlet, in this net
Of bays, and on. Unsafe.
And on, numb
In the bourbon ripples
Of your breath
I knot…

— Sep 09, 2024 03:17PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 173 of 192 of Grieving: Dispatches from a Wounded Country

Because I do not forget. Because I will never forget. Because we will never forget.

— Sep 07, 2024 07:56PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 173 of 192 of Grieving: Dispatches from a Wounded Country

Because a sentence produces memories that will be inhabited forever by the name Liliana Rivera Garza, Azcapotzalco, Mexico City, July 16, 1990.

— Sep 07, 2024 07:55PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 173 of 192 of Grieving: Dispatches from a Wounded Country

Because when faced with the question: It is worth it to get up early in the morning just to keep writing? Can writing, in fact, be something that acts against fear or terror? Since when has a page stopped a bullet?... Is there a protected zone, somehow invincible, around a written text? Is it possible, not to mention desirable, to grip or wield or raise a word? My answer continues to be yes.

— Sep 07, 2024 07:53PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 173 of 192 of Grieving: Dispatches from a Wounded Country

Because in the rectangle of a page I am nourished and I dream and I plunge and I die. Because there, too, I am reborn. We are reborn.

— Sep 07, 2024 07:44PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 172 of 192 of Grieving: Dispatches from a Wounded Country

Because using language, or letting yourself be used by it, is a daily political practice. Disrupting the limits of the intelligible or the real, writing’s very purpose,is to be political. Independent of the subject addressed or the anecdote told or the stylistic challenge proposed, the written text is a concrete exercise in politics. My hand, primarily the left though also the right, is purely political. That.

— Sep 07, 2024 07:42PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 171 of 192 of Grieving: Dispatches from a Wounded Country

Because to confront is, above all, to confront death. To place yourself in pursuit of the unknown or the darkness...In that ethical & aesthetic attitude of the exposition that opens, & upon opening, damages; there, where the certainty urgently emerges that death, independent of its circumstances, is an act of violence; there, on the path, both the face & poetry walk alone. They are alone. Because of that, too.

— Sep 07, 2024 07:40PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 170 of 192 of Grieving: Dispatches from a Wounded Country

Because perhaps the heart of writing consists in no more than showing your face and, if necessary, offering the other cheek.

— Sep 07, 2024 07:39PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 170 of 192 of Grieving: Dispatches from a Wounded Country

Because imagination is another word for criticism and, this, the other word for subversion.

— Sep 07, 2024 07:34PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 170 of 192 of Grieving: Dispatches from a Wounded Country

Because writing, by nature, invites us to consider the possibility that the world can, in fact, be different.

— Sep 07, 2024 07:31PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 169 of 192 of Grieving: Dispatches from a Wounded Country

The macro measures—changes to public health on a state level—should not go against and, in fact, must complement smaller, quotidian community measures; and these together might be able to unlock the harmful alliance of state and corporation, and their intrusion on our health system.

— Sep 07, 2024 07:11PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 169 of 192 of Grieving: Dispatches from a Wounded Country

In that sense, the fight for a public health system and the fight for migration reform are, in reality, the same fight; both are centered primarily on the fundamental assertion that we are bodies, and consequently, on the basic fact that so many bodies depend on each other in seriously altered ecological contexts.

— Sep 07, 2024 06:37PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 169 of 192 of Grieving: Dispatches from a Wounded Country

It is evident to me that, at least, in the United States, this struggle begins and is intimately tied to the absence of a public health system that, by not existing, has sentenced a large number of workers to routine death, and especially essential workers—and now the pandemic has also confirmed this status—many of whom continue to be considered illegal by this incompetent and genocidal government.

— Sep 07, 2024 06:35PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 168 of 192 of Grieving: Dispatches from a Wounded Country

... In other words, how will we resolve to demand that the state comply with its responsibility to protect the health of the population while we simultaneously produce embodied relations, that is, modes of affect and connection that stem from the broad admission that we are bodies, that we need and can provide care?

— Sep 07, 2024 05:51PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 168 of 192 of Grieving: Dispatches from a Wounded Country

Will it be possible then, from all this experience with illness, to overthrow that visceraless normalcy once and for all and participate, at the same time, in the emergence of a state with heart and flesh, muscle and cartilage?...

— Sep 07, 2024 05:50PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 168 of 192 of Grieving: Dispatches from a Wounded Country

Like a giant X-ray, the deceleration the pandemic has brought makes clear, or even exaggerates, what was already present: an economic system guided by profit at the expense of everything else and a Visceraless State—that is, a state for which bodies are not a matter of care but merely extraction.

— Sep 07, 2024 05:38PM Add a comment

sofía is on page 162 of 192 of Grieving: Dispatches from a Wounded Country

The border of a home is its door, but the most interesting phenomena happen through the windows. That’s where what is perceived, but still not reached, exists. Desire is its other name. A window is a passage, often a secret passage. Discern is a verb that occurs through glass.

— Sep 07, 2024 05:32PM Add a comment

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