by franz wright, from walking to martha's vineyard
once i held your face
in my hands, i saw through
space
poor spirit
drifting off now
like smoke in pouring rain
wait---
are you there?
everywhere. i'm
everywhere
rápidas manos frías/ retiran una a una/las vendas de la sombra/abro los ojos/ todavía/ estoy vivo/en el centro/ de una herida todavía fresca ~*madrugada* por octavio paz
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