8 April 2008. Milky gray, sparkle. Las mañanitas... Reina de los pajaros, de las flores...vía infinita de solitúd. Nos quedamos hablando, cantando--a medio día, a media luz, como si fuera cosa ajena... la distancia imposible. Siempre eso, lo querer, cosa de dios, me parece...
White bird on a gray sky, wheeling and turning. Ocean winds, off the pier. Huddle of immigrant fishermen--mackinaws and marines--an ammo case tackle box, heavy-handled bayonette. Starfish in a plastic pail, one flopping perch, fate undecided. We search for compassion--is that not it? A congruence, a field...
"There's a new breakfast place up from Nib's..."
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