The book I made in an edition of 4 (poem, photograph).

Blanco y Negro (y Gris y Gris)

What a city should be like: angles of unfolding agave.

After noontime’s whistle, the streets are ripped asunder 

and the reassembled. The grey clouds of the sea’s

factory remove appointments like gloves. Beauty’s

nothing but a startled bird awaiting snow.

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