max arvo

ESSAYS
FICTION

At Trotsky’s Deathplace

2022 - 2024



ONE


I pissed in Trotsky’s final home,

  Few visitors,

      Watchtower and guard house

          tattered,

Didn’t do the job.


Small and dark rooms,

    Little light.


As dark, perhaps,

    As russian rooms known once.


History occupies the day.


Coyocoan in the end.


***


Busy wide roads outside,

    just beyond.


lines outside and thruout casa azul,

Trotsky’s place mostly empty


thick cdmx smog and deep

sunset ribbon orange

tenochtitlan to mexico city with the spanish

rolling thunder fills the valley

everyday




the city is sinking

twenty inches a year

the great valley

the great past

the great smog

the great population

the great clouds


***



he was killed in this study

where i stand,

or the icepick went through the skull

by the stalinist pretender

who had planned it all along,

and he struck as leon read a passage to him

and leon fought back

and his bodyguards beat ramón

almost to death

and leon stopped them

said he could talk

then next day leon died




so the blow was in this study

where i stand

but not quite where i stand

the blow was in this study

beyond the railings

the railings in this empty museum



this place is a hidden crypt

half-forgotten,

escondido—



Trotsky lost again and again and again,

he is a hero,

he was a loser—



The house where he died is a mausoleum for the dream.



***



It’s the total ambivalence of deathtime and the irreducible world

To human yearning and our mortal attempt.


Being in the presence of death is like looking down and seeing a dog pissing on your leg and it looks up at you and you both hold eye contact and the dog doesn’t stop pissing until he’s done, and then he walks on and you just watch him go.



Maybe when death comes at last we will know.


TWO



It was the same feeling in Trotsky’s study as in the crypt of sachsenhausen,

and the same smell—

chemical, like chlorine, burns the back of the throat, like cocaine drip,

is that just what death brings?

the smell I think of ghosts

and of other worlds foreclosed

the reek of dreams foreclosed

by violent hands

by thoughtless voidful minds




The same feeling too as on the east side of Uvalde

by the fenced off school still being deconstructed room by room

the school where young children had been shot

and in the ruined streets around the school

houses so fallendown you’d think they were abandoned

until i see the young children rush out to play

a few feet from their peers’ killing floor

and of course it happened

of course it did

walk the streets around that school

of course it happened

some people can let this world

subsume them in its womb of apathy and exploitation

others must find an ending,

grant themselves a narrative,

the privilege of that,

and in that ruined east side of Uvalde

I found no endings available,

even fewer narratives,

so of course the kid killed the kids,

the ruin of that place

the scream of the abandonment of that place

by a society more like a great dynamo of dollarblood

than a society of lives and souls,

such places challenge those born there

not to match the violence of the world which so

brutalizes and condemns them

with their own.



I had set out that morning

for no reason

except inquiry

and fear of my mind alone in my empty room

in a new city in which i new noone

and I ended up driving from Austin to the border

I crossed down through great canyons and dry dead land

I turned from Del Rio east

I passed through Quemado

packs of stray dogs ran down the roadsides

each a different breed and a different age

and a kind of glee in their kinship and their freedom

beside more ruined homes

and just beyond

the wire fence

beyond which trucks crawled and kicked up dust

the border patrol searching for people whose dreams

violate their edicts, their mandates, their laws

and I noticed down there

suddenly after hours of no phone service

by the border the connection is stronger than ever

and then I noticed all the new sleek black towers

dotting the roads which trace the border

and there where there is nothing

nothing but the edge of America

they have put their finest technologies

you could stream in perfect resolution

events the world over

because they need that service down there

they need it to catch those whose dreams violate their order

or at least force them into the driest spots

where they will get lost and die of thirst,

better that than face their souls,

their faces, their inquiries, their longings,

their similarities to you,

although yes they lack the badge,

and the uniform, too.



And on the way up from there,

after my car was searched by border patrol outposts

an hour or so out from the border

on every road which could have brought you there or back

as I passed vast vast ranches and wild military enclosures

which looked more like nature reserves

I saw the route would take me through Uvalde

and I wondered if it was the same Uvalde

the one we all know

from its moment in the sun

from its day of death

and I thought well I am a morbid sort

if it is that same Uvalde

I must try to see the school

and I did

and it was silent

and there was nobody around

and the road is wide

which passes through Uvalde

and it is a place which you pass through

and it is a place which you forget

if even you notice it

like all these haunted places

where death settles its chemical smell

and its endless cold

which seems to find you first in the center of your bones

and work its way throughout you from the centers of you

those haunted places

where foreclosed dreams reside

Trotsky, Uvalde, Sachsenhausen,

the nursing home room I saw my grandmother in

for the last time

and where

at my first glimpse

there from the doorway

in the very first instant

the very first sight of her

I knew I would not see her again

and I could not speak for the first 20 minutes or so

because I knew I would crumble into tears

and I just pressed my fingernails into my fingertips

just as my mother had told me

when as a child I was crying at the school gate in the morning

and she said

do what the royals do,

when they think they might cry in public,

press your fingernails into your fingertips,

it will stop you from crying,

and I did,

and it worked,

and my grandmother died two weeks later,

and you can see it in our eyes,

or in the darkness just below,

when the time is near,

and the eyes no longer quite see the world

but see the space between,

and are halfway out the door already,

and I saw it in hers, in that first instant, and I knew,

and we had almost not gone

not gone to see her

because we were tired

but we figured well we should

perhaps we might regret it

if we did not go

if we did not

and what wonders pass us by

what dreams and joys and futures

pass us by

when we say

not today, but soon,

I promise,

I do care,

I have a lot on my plate at the moment,

but soon,

I promise I do care,

just not today,

what wonders pass us by

when we blink—




THREE


At the grave with the red flag blowing and brushing my hair,

I finally feel what the pilgrim feels at the shroud.


There are such things as real things.

This is what I think at the grave, and I am briefly hopeful.


Soon after when time and the city move in again,

I forget about hope and stop believing anymore that things are real.


The dream is dead, the bad guys won.

I don’t know what is alive and what is dead,

I don’t know if anything is lost,

or anything won.


I don’t know what’s next,

I don’t know what is to come,

I know nothing of tomorrow.


I won’t fight for anyone, anyone but myself,

and one or two others,

but even for them I’d hesitate.

I’d let them rush in first.


Or maybe I still care.


Maybe I do still drown in unmet relentless love

And my soul is wide open

And it lets the day rush in

Like great waters over the sinners’ world.


***


Trotsky is dead,

the dream is real,

the dream is lost,

the world is dead,

the world is alive,

I live in death

I am haunted by life

Because I am a great fool,

And stubborn,

And naive,

Because I never learn,

And I wonder if we can do that,

I wonder if we can.


***

And maybe,
in the end,
I will give it all up for you.


Tuesday Oct 5 2021