A Collection of Poems

I inhale the shadows of the calendar that hang my fate buried.

America, give heed: this is no flight of herons nor of angels… Those are wings which cover the broad skyline, piercing the clouds, challengi...

Neither mother of Pearl’s complexion, nor locks of gold Shall you see, like finery, adorning my frame; neither sapphire’s light, celestial a...

I make verses in the air they crackle toward the infinite prophecy. Crackling. Crackling.

- How very late have begun to flow the rivers of dawn! - What torrential music has seeped through all the wounds!

- Give me your breeze, oh sea, your pure breeze to appease my voice and my inner core! - Give me Lord your grace and your lungs to hold fas...

Soundless, moanless, wordless sirens silent song that was heard by death alone nailed agonies into the night.

Such a small country, spread on an isthmus where the sky is clearer, the sun brighter; all your music echoes within me, like the sea in t...