Ask me if I speak for the snail and I will tell you I speak for the snail. speak of underneathedness and the welcome of mosses, of life that springs up, little lives that pull back and wait for a moment.
stripped batting of cloud glimpsed ligaments dusk coming up under lithographic, nib-hatchings instruments click the fine-sprung locust replicate dinge along hill-lines tailings of umber, the rust smudge There is still that hemmed ocean of oaks the various reds, the somehow silver cast over the...
I am drinking a tree. Not exactly. Not as exactly as the branches lay, self-sectioned, over the round space they had shaded, till workers piled them at the curb. Not as exactly as I planted it, seventeen years past. A fig. The map of its leaf. Before...
Verde que te quiero verde. Verde viento. Verdes ramas. El barco sobre la mar y el caballo en la montaña. Con la sombra en la cintura, ella sueña en su baranda verde carne, pelo verde, con ojos de fría plata. Verde que te quiero verde. Bajo la luna gitana, las...
On the fifth day the scientists who studied the rivers were forbidden to speak or to study the rivers. The scientists who studied the air were told not to speak of the air, and the ones who worked for the farmers were silenced, and the ones who worked...