Words that fall from my pen


A Portrait in Chad

A well fills with the memory of water

A moment stretches tight across the facebone

A fly lights, orbits and lights

Cracks of parched lips mark roads

In a map of nowhere to go

Termites tunnel in the history of roots

They lay their eggs 

In the cavity of a yam

Four thousand eggs rise in bile

That burns from the stomach to the tongue

Waves of air divide

 And multiply the heat by three

 And suck the stares of sixty thousand eyes

Into the liquid desert

A moment pulls hard on the backbone

A fly lights, orbits and lights, orbits

And lights

Waiting for the opening of the face

2/85 Nada.

He was followed by the dog.

The dog followed him.

El perro le sigio.

When the man went in

He lay and waited.

He waited for the man.

Le espero

The feet moved by.

The wheels rolled by,

His head held up by the sounds.

Los ruidos.

The man came out.

The dog lifted his head,

Sniffed the smoke on his pants,

The smoke on his fingers,

His empty hand.