Linchpin

Linchpin (I). © Chris Bronsk 2013.

“That’s how I’ve made it this far, triumphant. And with legs light, I tread on round stones edged by discreet grass. Perhaps the sun is too cruel for the dead who rest on the plain. I could abandon the spiral of sweet violence that wafts from these ashen castles. I could pray, make the sign of the cross, follow the Stations of the Cross. Like flowing water, I could fly madly through the cables and tram lines. It would be better, however, if I sat in distinguished chairs, even if there I’d feel the shutter of emptiness. It’s time to produce the linchpin, place it where it belongs. Over and over. If I do this tomorrow I won’t feel like stuffing myself grotesquely with unplucked swallows that I cook whole but can’t enjoy.” —Miquel Bauçà, Carrer Marsala

(from the archives, Seattle, 2013)

No Passwords

No Passwords. © Chris Bronsk 2014.

“He wanted a different life, a new life. Which should have been as easy as buying something. As simple as opening a new account. He’d wanted to make a new name for himself and the new password that would access his secrets would be (‘preferably some combination of letters and digits’)—no, no passwords. And no different names—no name at all.”

—Joshua Cohen, from Four New Messages (Graywolf, 2012)

(from the archives, Seattle, 2014)