by Octavio Paz: The water drills the rock, / the wind disperses the water, / the rock detains the wind.
Like a dragonfly shimmering within a jar, such is the woman held by your gaze. From her open hands there blossoms three flames. Petals that turn into thorns, thorns that turn into amethysts. At this hour, the violet of gasoline is the most sensible perfume; fire encircles the drawings of her body: mandorla. Slowly, the …
Poetry International 6
“Wind, Water, Rock”
Poetry International 22/23
“Film Viewed on Coney Island”