silence
in the broad and restive
blue expanse
of morning
time aware of missing
a measure of fuel
and an appetite

the precious unabandonable
trill and consequence
of coming together
to make music
for even a moment
dripping down
rhythmic sage resilient
into honeyed futures
and a legend of witness
and aching

(continue reading…)

With a lead point
That’s almost worn down
To its wooden base
I try to sketch a little room
That in my dreams I gave chase.

As it takes shape on paper
I paint the inside of a house
That I now see spills over around me
Off the canvas
Onto the the floor
(continue reading…)

the day smells of charcoal
& summertime
is lush with overwhelming heat
& the memory
of faraway dreamscapes
new spiritual riches
& the sentient pushing on
of all that breathes
or reaches for the sun

by Carlos Trujillo
Joseph Robertson, translator
1ª edición: 25 marzo 2010
ISBN: 978-0877230878

¿Dónde cae la hoja que cae de la hoja?
¿Dónde, la hoja que se suelta de sí misma
como mirando lejos y hacia adentro,
como mirándose desde lejos
igual que si fuera otra hoja la que cae
mientras ella la mira?

Where does the leaf fall that falls from the leaf?
Where, the leaf that lets go of itself
as if looking into the distance and also inward,
as if looking upon itself from afar,
as if it were some other leaf falling
while it is looking on?

The work of the poet is not easy to define. It involves imagination, observation, a musical ear and a kind of daring that allows words to forge new spaces for meaning. But none of these alone makes the poet, or the poem. In this bilingual edition of Carlos Trujillo’s Palabras, his first collection to be published in English, the award-winning Chilean poet offers the reader a hands-on experience of the creative work of the poet, and by his elegant, melodic approach, suggests a more intimate understanding of what poetry is and how it comes to draw breath. [Read more...]

Last place in the world I want to be,
but you asked me.

The air is still enough
to freeze light, break shadows,
bellow from deep in a planet
living too close to the edge.

Faces are simultaneously youngish
and anguished,
(continue reading…)

You are like satin, spilling
over every edge, wanton
consequential though seeming transient
a bond hewn of azure
indigo, and salt,
a hint of the unknown
& the beyond
sifting through joys and hollows
at the first raw glint of morning…

“Monsters exist, but they are too few in numbers to be truly dangerous. More dangerous are… the functionaries ready to believe and act without asking questions.”

— by Primo Levi (1919-1987)

“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.

(continue reading…)

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
damaged fray of weathers
trueno boxeo milk & honey
la hora que define
sin pasión
her every wandering ancestor
su partido de light & listing