Silence
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Second Country
I. I like newness, the kind that leaves traces on the page of morning. When it calls, when it forces you to see the light— the morning glory, the moisture softening on the glass of the windowpane. The sky is bluer than blue. Let him go. II. This is an easy test. The volume of— the square root of— Don’t they need men? You remember: men make this industrial complex. I know where I am. I know where I…
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First Utterance
No more.No more.No more,fathers.No more,smoke.No moreboyswhoreturn.No morehousesonfire.No morepoetry.I wantedto catchthe smokebeforeit escapedthroughthe window.I thoughtit wantedthe sky.Help me.Help me findmy song.My armswere too smallfor windows.Too smallfor clouds.Too smallfor father.No more.I rememberthe barsfirst.Thenlight.Thensmoke.Everything elsecamelater.To catchthe smokepastthe barsof the little bed.To catchwhat lookedlikecloudsforming.To believecloudsenteredthroughwindows.To stretchan armtoo smallfor distance.To thinkthe smokebelongedto my fatherbefore memoryknewthe wordabsence.No more.Can dovesbe dovesstill?Hold melikea…
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somewhere dark in guánica bay
to reach el punto pastthe cliffs — fifty metersof rock abovethe ocean do not speed up or you will meetan untimely deathfar out, en el punto,men devouranother. an older manteaches me this freedomcalladovaronilno afeminadoscasadoven atrás el árbol,in the shadowto watch our shadowscome nearerdo not look into the eyes no questionsdo not touch the face no…
Luis E. Santos 