Poetry
Spring 1965
The Clown’s Farewell
From the Spanish. My clothes of colored dust were crumpled, I returned my costume to the bottom of the sea; blind I stayed next to the pool, next to […]
Poetry
Spring 1965
The Unreachable Sun
From the Spanish. You used to open seasons in which spring would invade us through the smallest wound; the planet would revolve, a room of waiting; the roosters would […]
Poetry
Spring 1965
9
From the Spanish. They tell me that things are going too badly, that men are filing crucifixes to kill each other and beneath the mattresses of cradles are found weapons […]