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Poems

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  • Between the Bed and the Window

    First, the light, which is always

  • What Light Tastes Like

    Depends on the hour of departure and if flowers

  • Untitled |Untitled

    Day as in backwards

  • April

    I think I will accept my life, the moment

  • The Myth of the Eternal Return

    The river sinks beneath our love

  • Woman, Man, Tepoztlán

    Mother, today I met a man.

  • naked dreaming

    an artist friend once told me

  • RIFF ON A LINE BY CHAR

    Somewhere inside the sacerdotal

  • Labyrinth (Lear)

    A poorly timed abdication. A madness

  • From The Little Book of Passage

    Ecco il fiume che mi allarga lo sguardo, che mi attraversa la fronte.

  • Inside the guts of fresh fish, just hauled up | Shall we praise the girls who will not come down | It’s about water that didn’t lose its shine

    Inside the guts of fresh fish, just hauled up

  • BORN ON

    The twelfth of July, like Neruda, wouldn’t