one

showers are a constant ..

water rings out in streets/sidewalks

down the sides of buildings

                       in this particular city

 

  when the sun appears ..

  no warmth

  though it is reflected

  from a million mirrors

 

   there are sharp concave

   and convex shapes

   onto certain bricked

   residential streets

 

   and even tempered

   people are dressed

                       as dark

                       flowers

▪

two               

and buses & taxis

shake thru

the channels

of streets

 

underneath

the subway is a snake ..

it stops to ingest

everyone

 

or else the whole city

can vibrate,

4 or 5 seconds

a little tremor ..

 

and is there a vague mist

inside & outside

that

mystifies(?)

▪

three

and why

are the church bells

following

me(?)

 

and how is it, at night,

do buildings stately thicken

and take on

a different life(?)

 

 .. also i consider

 there are mountains

 in the east that half-fill

 the andean sky

 

 and the evening view

 from above ..

 these blue & white mountains

 and the sunk-in sun rinsed clouds

▪

four       

now a real defined sping

commences ..

tentative blossoms

opposite french doors

 

regardless .. vendors of empanadas

want to cure

your hunger

for 100 pesos

 

.. persistent gypsys

want to cure

your soul

for 100 pesos

 

while street vendors of books

want to sell you

used wisdom

for just a little more

▪

five

or hallways

in the universities

.. everyone is eager

but what for(?)

 

then .. nearby there,

there exists a solid formality

of rows of houses ..

though there are exemptions

 

as what of that house(?)

here near a corner ..

nearly

airborne

 

 and the street

 that it lives one ..

 nearly

lifting

▪

six

now i am in the air

in a bridge

over a street

connecting two different worlds

 

in one world ..

count the images of the dictator

everywhere

that never seem to fade

 

otherwise .. a corona of frustration

via civic protestations

ripple thru

the city

 

and

ripple thru

the narrow expanses

traversing this country

▪

seven

.. between that expanse

of the mountains

of the coast ..

is a metaphysical friction

 

or does the oppositions

in the southern cross

out up there .. suggest

in down here – contention(?)

 

meanwhile the highway

becomes us

thru valleys, hills, & tunnels

.. then this abrupt coast

 

there you might find

one more city .. (this one)

symbiotic in its hills

above the shores

▪

eight

the seafood & advice here

are rich

while modernism

is misplaced

 

.. but placed at the edge

of a beach, buoys & stars

are speaking freely

yet abandoned in the evening

 

and fishermen throw

their netting flat

into

the sea

 

as poets throw

their verse blank

into that

similar sea

▪

nine

these (all) are drowned

to be later

surfaced

and emotional

 

and unknown somehow

a boon of sparks

are turned in on

and on in, a pacific bay

+++++++++++++++++++

CHECK THIS OUT >>> an audio reading of this poem: