Lately, I've been watching them, pecking
furiously at the ground,
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The president is up before the fruit vendor
and goes to bed after the bus driver.
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Before dawn I called for you,
my poem, but you didn't come.
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It's always August.
Before sunup
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Since morning I've been at a burial.
I dressed this boy like an angel
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Swallows crown the afternoon.
Your eyes reflected on a silver spoon
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It starts with the picture of my grandfather,
machinegunned in his car, Packard De Luxe, 1923.
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August. 105 in the shade.
In a field we watch the bombers
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This is what happened:
She refused to lean on my shoulder
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I spilled the coins
from my mouth and called it quits
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Dear son I have to explain some things first of all I am not crazy but you would have me and the world belive otherwise insanity not even momentarily has ever i
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My little one, you are finally
here. So much like the earth,
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Yesterday was Sunday. Your grandson
stared at your feet and found
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Let's say that on the corner there is a man.
That today his son spread out his arms
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Killed a gopher
in my garden.
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An arrowhead of birds heading South.
On a Greyhound bus, field workers
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Later, no one knew who named him.
No one cared, and the name
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I will tell you, Alighieri,
why yesterday you couldn't write.
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At dawn
they are
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What fire glows under her skirt! What
sparrow is gnawing at his heart!
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It begins when the TV mentions the name of my
street,
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San Teodulo, give them vinegar when they thirst.
Holy Peter, when they hunger, look the other
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There were trains that went in the tunnels
and never came out. The eyes of horses
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Once I was in love & I think I loved that girl
much more than she loved me. Would I heal?
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At the small zocalo,
sipping beer and bored:
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the lord of Ravenna
has been kind.
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everyone all night
and what flickered were not lights
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One time
the whole world wore red.
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Even God has called it a day.
The streets of Tuxtla are empty
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I was off to Los Angeles to the burial of my cousin. The drive, as usual, was tedious, except for the sunset in the mountains and the stops to sip coffee from t
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