One thought on “It Is Pablo Neruda Week (It Is A Good Week).”

1. Neruda

   Fires of birds
   swim from the dust of his feet
   and he tells me
   the journey’s just begun.

   His socks lie warm
   near my bed
   next to locomotives of steaming villages
   in a pot of stones and blue sky.

   A stream of feathers and clocks
   ask me where he has gone
   I tell them
   he is sleeping in libraries
   between oranges and melons

   I tell them
   tomorrow he will walk
   in countrysides of mirrors and dreams

   when they find him
   their mouths will be filled with canaries
   a dance of bones
   will whistle
   when he is near.

   Reply