News from Poems
“It is difficult to get the news from poems yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there.” – William Carlos Williams, from “Asphodel, that Greeny Flower”
“It is difficult to get the news from poems yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there.” – William Carlos Williams, from “Asphodel, that Greeny Flower”
You told me I was too frail, too much a waif lost in the wind, too biblical and saddened and wanting the little more that was never given ...
entre mil ayeres y un azul you lost track of basics deep trauma pánico de forma existencial a question of rhythm marker for the threat of six lobos color naranja lastimando la luna ...
primeval molding glare & shiver the combative quality of concentrated atmosphere too humid too infrequently opened to the sun ...
Dices que somos uno; dices que somos mundo; dices que éramos grandes; dices que no hace falta ninguna defensa ...
llovía se sentaba dentro en un bar antiguo ventanales abiertos la esperaba mientras no vino ...
Is there something more than what you said or what you gave something more than everything that passed between us?
Woman Take me to the springside Talk to me Show me how to ride Your merciless inclines How to get lost In your welcoming folds ...
quiero ver que crezcas en tu áfrica de noches zafiro y días lila gritando quiero que veas tu fuego ritual trascendente crecer sobre el escarpado horizonte de todas las dudas ...
lástima navegando como luna gruesa granate mordida por el río de sus propios reflejos vibrando de intención
you were wisdom or you were not wisdom you were restlessness in the face of winter you knew emotional devastation & were proud ...
I feel like I'm in free-fall a regime of tiny plummetings impossible to overthrow floors slipped away or dispersed into a vague oblivion so many imperceptible plunges so close together in time it feels like…
Suddenly, she is swept up, taken off, by remorseless shadows. She is taken in by specters, haunts and villains. She is detailed and detained. Enmeshed. Embedded. Dethroned. Defrocked. She is questioned. Why? Why do you…
How shall I fill in the last Page of this notebook? A memory carry-on loosely bound Together by an overstretched Elastic band; lonely, dog-eared From coutless days of faithfulnes Ink-blotted from wet Smudges on its…
With a penny drop I remember With aloofness I seem to remain The city that stirs below me The lights of which Crawl down a lane. ...
Things are so ancient resembling silence Universal truth helping the belonging To be formed into oneness Corners of all the dimensions come together To form perfect dimension ...