Monday, June 29, 2009
29 June 2009. El Cerrito pool, blue green in morning light, sliver swimmer shadows, shoulders, arms…
A line of fine wires, drawn along the parapet. Bird discouragement—towards what end? Protection of the newly shingled roof—or a human sensibility. Javed’s place, at dawn, with the bags of stale bread and cakes, scattering them all across the pavement. 7-eleven in its better days…
Toda la noche despierto
Tan grande pena lloré.
Toma esta rosa,
Dame un clavel.
All through the night, awake
Such a great sadness I wept
Here, take this rose,
And give me a carnation in return…
(A gaucho copla, quoted from Carlos Alberto Leumann in El Poeta Creador.)