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ciudad que no es una ciudad
brilla la edad pasada, el siguiente con esperanza se ve
el viejo oeste, el viejo tiempo
hombre frío severo
uno por uno, como se va de un árbol
si era muy seguro
vi los archangels en mi manzana-a'rbol ayer por la noche
truely
sobre el río, en la colina
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
ruidos que se esfuerzan rasgarse
trenzado y tejido
esté en mí como los humores eternos

 



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