El vuelo del dardo / Alan Mills

The Flight of the Dart

I think artists are everyday people who accept their Martian trace with greater facility.

Someone was telling me: “Denying reality transforms reality.” That seemed absurd and lucid at the same time.

The poet makes visible a non-existent necessity. That’s why they confuse him for a magician and a street vendor.

The fashion in poetry is to never be in fashion.

The poet writes for a reader who doesn’t want to read. Otherwise, it’s not poetry.

The poet is always out of fashion. The thing is, right now it’s fashionable to be out of fashion.

He invented the criticism of the unpublished book, a derivation of the criticism of the unread book. Soon the criticism of the unwritten book will be invented.

I have nothing to tell. That’s why I write.

My ego is called Goyo Samsa and it woke up feeling like a cockroach.

Put a roof on your delirium. And make it out of book covers.

Those helpless stories wandering around, without a book to live in.

Sometimes, when they want to cross someone out, they underline them.

If you don’t understand a vision of the world, keep reading.

If you have another one, write.

Empty book for sale. Price negotiable.

“I dissent.”

“I sense.”

The key to this business is to negotiate with fiction.

I classify my dreams by literary genre.

The importance of the notation of no importance.

Bad poems are made of good intentions.

The book was never here.

Someone walks toward the abyss of writing and that’s how he saves himself: by writing.

All songs are texts that wanted to live in the air.

The light at the end of the tunnel is a blank page, lighting itself on fire.

I confuse music with happiness.




Alan Mills (Guatemala, 1979)




{ Alan Mills, Papel Literario, El Nacional, 15 September 2013 }