Playlist - Mexico

Bacalar Good Friday dawns & many hopeful wingtips flutter in the morning 1:36
Evening bells in Cuetzalan Busy hands, stilled by sunset, the heat of the day fading. Ring the bells, sing out to the children. Gather them home. 1:00
Mexican Organ Grinder Armed with a hand crank and union card, he tatters under the midday sun. Sounds in sepia murmuring amidst the ring tones. 1:11
Noon mass in the Catedral A hundred glossy-faced believers in the cool embrace of stone. Their prayers rise to the noon day sun trailing lunch bags. 1:31
Political rally in Tlaxcala The absurdity of it now: fireworks and too much margarina, yellow shirts, urgent faces, a girl willing herself empty. That mannequin and how is strolled. 1:00
Lightning in Coatepec Rain in our last hours, that brooding sky. 0:28
Schoolyard in Cuetzalan Could you live here? he asked, meaning the trumpets and the bone-rattling streets, the crisp white shirts and someone forever sweeping a sidewalk to dust. Could you? he asked, meaning our son, unborn, and our daughter’s lily white hand. Darling, a part of us always will. 1:00
Morning in Cuetzalan Voices spill from the valley, cool and round, too early for dogs. Women call themselves to work as the clouds part and the earth twitches: how darkness anticipates dawn. Dress the church in heliconias. Fly the flag of the mother of mothers. Walk on the bones of the boisterous dead. These streets are a palimpsest of desire. Each to carve his own kingdom of car parts and bike tires, birdcages and bread. In everything, the mark of hands. These children we bear, their perfect witness. Listen how they sing for us. 1:00
Noon bells in El Centro The cathedral is sinking. The state, agitated, has responded with scaffolds and prosthetics. Everyone has noted this except the cleaning woman who each night slips in to touch the Lady of the Immaculate Conception and wipe away her dust like tears. 1:28
Printing press We are all devils here, where iron rings with the heft of words. 1:22

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