Sunday, April 12, 2009

LINES TORN FROM A CUBAN NOTEBOOK




LINES TORN FROM A CUBAN NOTEBOOK


sea changes
colour from
morning until

an eyelid over an eye
a bird
a bird
a sky

the volume of music: width x depth x height

the moon, the azimuth of crowds
the womb, the quickness of clouds

leaves eave
chasing the great white veil
you cannot take the bridal dress
out of province

king of half the world
but which half?

something just under
a ton of bricks

the body is the seasons

tied to a post
when spring comes

a tree

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