(summer 2011,  spring 2014)

In 2011, Ángel Talián and Miguel Rojo made their own road trip through the States of California and Nevada. Ángel Talián wrote a book of poems and Miguel Rojo created a series of 'Maps' that try to recreare the paths that the poems enact, geographical maps but also emotional and intelectual.

  • texts

    Ángel Talián

  • maps

    Miguel Rojo

ROADS (coda)

the grid painted with a set-square
that are the streets of San Francisco
a runaway tram
turned into a funfair attraction
the there’s-still-hope signs
on the red cables of the Golden Gate Bridge
the route 1 that goes down skirting the empty
and the Pacific Ocean in a desperate blue
that cul-de-sac where we almost got trapped
suitable for a chasing Hollywood scene
the Carmel paths where we drove
at American-obese speed
the yellow meadows like a Spanish wheat field in Mariposa
and a poppy surviving in the middle of the afternoon
the giant sequoias skirting the very secondary
that led to Yosemite Valley and the 8 hours
we took to do 50 km
the beware-of-the-bears warnings
and the bears we didn’t see
the endless straight road that crosses the high noon in Death Valley
the 55 degrees under the shadow
and the air that burned the skin
the reflections on the road that were a glassy sea
the motel parking where we believed ourselves fugitives
and the old lady that took care of us that reminded me of the mother
of Bates the shower and the knife
Las Vegas risen in the middle of the dessert
the best tribute to Sodom ever to be done
Las Vegas Blvd. with the Bellagio the Caesar Palace the Flamingo the Mirage
the stretch of route 66 we drove through on our way to the Grand Canyon
and how we insisted in calling it The Mother Route
because Steinbeck had said so in The Grapes of Wrath
ourselves inside the car facing the Grand Canyon and the rain
that blurred our windscreen and the landscape
the returning roads that seemed different
though they were the same
the roads of our youth and the Dodge
whom we called Mae West
swallowing kilometres without a break
that summery light of held up time
that we will never be able to
bring back

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