Text excerpted from a poem by Farid Matuk

A vase, inspired by a Michoacan piece that I encountered in a state sponsored store in Mexico City, holds roses. These large rosy flowers eclipse a landscape of dream and myth that is also already eclipsed by drones. The vase of indigenous origin has green eyes: its green eyes speak of whiteness; the snakes of its old mythologies hide in plain site: at its edges, on its sides and feet. The little vase with blue eyes speaks of miscegenation while offering a nativity, little baby Jesus and all. They always worshiped that little baby all along, right?