Destiny is rhyme and spring nine hells three heavens our remains hard and sweet sugar. Mictlantecuhtli wore bones as their amor owlsong at night voice of cougar. Destiny is rebirth dead wood regreened nine hells three heavens the black path to Xibalbá our remains our names & thirsts.

They wear the motley coat of jesters: like fools they tell the truth. Of a feather, the birds do fight together they hold on to your finger like a terrified fiancé. El palenque in Ixmiquilpan sees them clash green and red under the belt: Men and women, make your bets, a way of life as bloodsport in a star-crossed box drawn with lime. They wear the motley coat of jesters: what luck will they reveal?

We come from the stone age: the magic happens here. It is medicine, nutrients, seed, sauce cornerstone sediment of history the centre holds heavy cold, totemic- it is everything multiple make, serve, be. Basalt broken in before it works: Texolotl and Molcaxitl need each other. We come from the stone age: this is the tool no life without its power Sooner or later you need to have one you may have forgotten it is so essential.

So many thoughts of home burst with the smell then heat sight religiously a crowd of faithful revere the old woman el comal cóncavo la vida en la calle roots not la hoguera not chimenea cooking to take away the embers with the hand of other braceros took braseros, died with them- a new land as promised legend. Arms, glowing coals abrazos and remembrance.

Sunshine this morning feels about 28 million light-years from our planet Ergo we dream of Pierre Mechain or Charles Messier. Also, William Herschel- galaxies a list of objects /that are not comets/ in the sky sombrero: swirling into what is almost certainly a massive black hole.

We come back to ourselves again and again and again and again we know it as kids, remember it as adults then come back up and down the thread hangs.

For Paty In my language, cog rattle, noisemaker, ratchet: Signal to noise Arabic: from مَطْرَق‎ maṭraq stick, hammer, chatterbox to knock, bang, strike. Aramaic: from טרק‎ to hit, sting, bite, close a door, mix. Talmud: pakia? What is a madra? Rav Papa says: An Arabian whip whose end is split. Suena la matraca noisy, fun, old. Every sound comes from somewhere else. What fortunes will the racket bring?

W e are halfway through January already, but I am only beginning to gather energy to restart again. Over the years this blog as been many things, at points becoming merely some kind of listing of things I have done (but never all). Here I’d like to reflect on what could be done differently, here, and elsewhere.

It’s been a while since I translated a poem. One morning while doing something else, you randomly take a book from the shelves, open it and find a poem that speaks to you, and calls you to translate it, in order to share it with others who also share your mother tongue.

H appy publication day to The Lockdown Chronicles ! Get your copy NOW! (Please? Links open in new tabs). With a preface by Martin Paul Eve; design by Francisco de la Mora. “Ernesto Priego’s Lockdown Chronicles are great. And if you make comics, an object lesson in what you can do with four panels. “ – Katy Whitaker Read an interview with me about creating the chronicles here.

P addy Johnston interviewed me for the Good Comics blog on the creative process behind my new comic, The Lockdown Chronicles. A Comic Strip Quarantine . You can read the interview here. You can pre-order the book now! The online book launch is on the 2nd of November at 7PM UK time. You are all invited .