Poetry
“Poems don’t last as objects, but as presences. When you read something worth remembering, you release a human voice: you return a kindred spirit to the world. I read poems to hear that voice. I write to speak to those I have listened to.”
–Louise Glück
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The dress, friend of the wind
Sitting by the back window of the car, music in my ears, icy air on my face, mind blank, eyes wide and watching. I notice that next to me, a few inches away, a white dress is hanging from a hook.
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Those who are not chosen
Those who aren't chosen have to drink water, for lack of kisses. They eat a giant watermelon, alone, at the kitchen counter, and save half, imagining that it's spring again and that they have someone to share it with.
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A Home by Your Side
I know I was brave. That I loved without measure, without fear. And that, even if it wasn’t forever, it was real. Very real to me.
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Moves
El tiempo se mueve a través de mí como un virus, como un recipiente…
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The Other Night
I tried to close my jaw, to stop the process, to interrupt that silent mechanism; but something remained open, insistent, beyond my control. And I understood that it was not a falling, but a form of revelation.
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Thoughts for Washing
How important Sunday cleanings are. From time to time I discard my mental habits, along with what I have to wash.
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The Provost Dances to Prove Something Even She Doesn’t Know
May those who lack the courage to remain silent transcend in their own way. May we find the way to share what is necessary. May my best poems be lost among lost pages.
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Money
And what do I want in life? I want books. I want art. I want to be generous with those who haven’t had the same opportunities as me. I want to be generous with my friends. I want to travel. I want to have a wonderful library and leave it to the small town I belong to.
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Licking Walls
Te mudaste dentro de mí como un inquilino, cubriendo con linóleo temporal los suelos de mí…
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Cousin
From shadows and dissolving silhouettes, the morning rises, and between curtains of eyelashes, along a path paved with timid kisses, lips grope in the dark for a drop of dew that might condense their perfume.
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Liminal Lover
My lover and I walk through life in parallel. We share secrets we haven’t even had to speak. Our love feeds on the present.
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Sparkles
A flash blinded me. My eyes had turned to glass. I looked at the ground, and there it was: the darkness I feared so much seemed like the only option.
