spanish

They were a horse perhaps

A poem by Dionisio Cañas translated by Orlando Hernández

And we wolfed down the rocks they put on the table.

Three poems by Edwin Madrid translated by Julia Velasco

walled up between the hours

Two poems by Amanda Reverón translated by Don Cellini

and after sessions luxurious and tender

Three poems by Idea Vilariño translated by Jesse Lee Kercheval

Should we stop to breathe as we open a parenthesis in the dream

Thirst, its golden circumstances

that which flies, flaps, beats

Underneath all of this there’s a song

a pilot dodging wood and granite crosses

to measure the body or to neglect it

Outside: The entire dead ocean, emptying itself

Your breath bright with presence is origin.

A wild tiger’s excesses. Or an ocelot.

the color of time on a ruined wall

a failed defense against our common fate

On the table, to the side of the door, is my heart

They don’t alliterate October with gold falling from the fragile trees

There is a lawless canyon in our lips, a labyrinth whose exits are burning.

Long ago I found out that you were an unfinished animal

I opened an ossuary and saw the bones

blessed by vagabond hands with a box of wine

three barricades three barricades and one dark night