The Hinge Forgive the craft of pouring myself into pitchers. Water cannot tolerate thirst for long periods of time, the thirst that invaded my home during the years of submarginal words. Burglars burned down the charity bazaars and school libraries.... Continue Reading →
Rain and Toothless Angels In my city, it always rains. Water falls with an intensity that only belongs to fables or dreams. Serious, insistent, almost solid, a cloth made by hands without eyes. It rains on currency circulating in shopping... Continue Reading →
Amazing Microcosm Eloy put a few seeds in my hand. Thirty trees tomorrow, a forest fifty years later, birds find the South in those trees, wolves discover shelter. And ants grow like a body between blind, sleepy roots. At some... Continue Reading →
Poetry Breakfast 