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contemporary poetry

el sol está para arriba
usted piensa, mi muchacho, cuando pongo mis brazos alrededor de usted
la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno
puesto que he sentido el sentido de la muerte
nunca en toda mi vida
cómoyo ayude a la derecha al mundo que va mal
la lluvia encima, y el aire brillante
como él de quién alcohol en el resplandor del mediodía

 



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  • Short Cuts - London Review of Books (subscription)
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  • Exhibit traces the nation's culinary history (Honolulu Star-Bulletin)
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  • Walk in a brothel, walk out a rapist? - Salon
  • Lost histories - guardian.co.uk
 

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