Round and round, I go
I sat quietly at a brown table, on a brown chair,
taking in all the years I could feel going round
around me;
The café made my thoughts sit quietly too,
merely recording the odd life surrounding,
tables with people attached calmly to life,
breathing, growing under the spring air
'round them;
The coffee was not more honest than in other
cities, but the walls were encircling a world
that sighed truthfully embracing my waist and
thought until it stopped briskly and looked me
square in the eyes
whispering, “Go round and round, my child.”
My body peeled off today and opened itself up
under the soft sounds and let time in: it feels
young and old – of another time, both past
and future, round.
susurrando, “anda alrededor, mi hijo”
Mi cuerpo se pelo hoy y se abrio a si mismo
sobre el suave sonido para permitir abrir el tiempo: se siente
joven y viejo a la vez - como de otro tiempo, tiempo preterito
y futuro, circular.
the existential Porteño socks
I've just put on my light brown socks
and there I was: Buenos Aires!
second room in a month, I’ve been
here before, but this is the first time
it got to me – the absurdity of it all –
I mean, the distance of miles, of
being here, lost among lost socks –
of being from there, coming here;
but my socks haven’t been existential
before, oh! no, no, not at all: to talk
without words about the limits of
worlds is not something I’d expect
of woolen, cozy socks – yet, in Buenos
Aires, I’ve seen it before, we are all, oh,
so much more…to socks that know it all!