Estados Unidos

SATORI The boundless child, eternal in the dying grass, is intent upon the infinite ant. She has forgotten the tomorrow she creates. The ant, fixed upon the pleasures of the queen, understands everything but what the child believes. The dog could not care less. He concerns himself with the cat and her dreams of pigeons, and sees clearly that love is the first canvas. This comedy is both sphere and vapor. Like the bright leaves of autumn, it is here for a moment and gone. SATORI La niña sin...

AUTUMN SETS In the paleness of my den ere I fix to light, muted on bricks and dusty curtains, a window faces upward bound, yet nothing in its recess but a cold absence, skeletal leaves left broken from summer. She left me. So I turn away to nothing but stairs leading to bent door, from some foundation swing until a jam never to open again. Her scent lingers. Trapped am I without a word spoken for my reprieve from darkness where I sleep. So I claw and hammer vibrations...

DOORS AND WINDOWS We’d given up the cat for dead, but a neighbor reported, a cavity beneath the porch of an empty house across the street had drawn cats before, her own once for ten days. On my knees I peered, heard mewing, coaxed her out musty and thin, carried her back; homecoming or capture. As I lay here tonight another leaf falls from the struggling avocado tree, root-bound in a bucket by the window, sucking in water the radiator robs relentlessly from her leaves. The cat cries at...

TRASH AND TREASURE When I was kid there were large fires in front yards with junk cars, broken refrigerators and rusty tractor parts women that were not pretty and fat in dingy dresses ‘n mussed up hair walked into the yard carrying trash to dump piles by men with poking sticks yelling “git!” at kids zooming in to steal a prize anything they could find that’d be held up high and claimed as “Mine!” To Throw in the Fire I wanted to play there where fire wasn’t dangerous But...