Poetry
Summer 1995
Spirit
Feliz noche bajo las estrellas rojas! —Gonzalo Arango Think of me as a rat the size of a pistol, my tail tight like a twisted bill, the quick slip of […]
Poetry
Summer 1995
To the Dead Farmer
It’s no surprise to us. We saw your death coming in the parade of sugar ants on your bedsheet, as the currucuy sang from the roof, when the black butterfly […]