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Ernesto Trejo

I lived from 1950-1991. I was from Mexico, and am in the Americas category.

"Ernesto Trejo is a poet of mysteries and incarnations, of secret unnamed presences, of the magical interior spaces of childhood and the luminous floating world that flares and throbs, that burns in time." —Edward Hirsch

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1 - 10 of 46  Show all by written, popularity, title, first line
  • My Tongue Is The Tongue
    of Italian women
    who squeeze eggplants
    11 lines, 6 comments
  • At Dawn
    The spirit surges among branches.
    The nervous laughter of blackbirds
    9 lines, 5 comments
  • Tonight This House Speaks
    Tonight this house speaks to me
    through the creaking in the cupboards
    28 lines, 3 comments
  • On a Birthday
    I learn one thing:
    death is no longer
    23 lines, 1 comment
  • You
    This morning, for no reason at all,
    I thought of you.
    16 lines, 2 comments
  • 2 a.m.
    Under the covers, the winds of sleep
    rock the poppies of your breasts
    26 lines, 6 comments
  • One Summer
    Against the elm
    that spun its rumor
    37 lines, 1 comment
  • At My Window
    At my window, I write:
    Three children in the swings
    24 lines, 2 comments
  • August
    When the sister
    of your mother
    40 lines, 3 comments
  • A Good Day
    Father, one summer I was seven,
    on a Sunday, the usual day
    25 lines, 1 comment
1 - 10 of 46  Show all by written, popularity, title, first line

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