Category: Poems

SPIRITUAL GRAVITY An obscure symbiosis of wandering through the synapses of stars demands also to bury my soul when I die. Passing through its rough skin, I’ll embrace

THE YEARS FROM YOU TO ME Again curls your hair, when I cry. With the blue of your eyes you set the table of our love: a bed

EPITAPH FOR JOAQUÍN PASOS He used to walk here, along these streets, without job or position and without a peso. Only poets, prostitutes, and bums knew his verses.

A HALF MOON Since when are you hanging there, half moon, drifting palely in the sky? The wind rises, the nightfall brings a chill, and the edge of

Germain Droogenbroodt, Picture Loek Groenendijk WRITING POETRY To find the fragile balance between silence and word between the road and the deviation between the nameless and the nameable

Painting by Barbaras BilderKunst THE HEART They say it’s the size of my clenched fist. Small, then, but that’s enough to set in motion all of this. It’s

THE HOUSE OF THE WORLD The tiny flower of the candle, on the table —the bread, the wine, the rose— the sudden whiteness of the open bed, eternity

  THE WINDOW When my faith was hanging by the weak thread of justice and in the whole city the hearts of my lamps were being torn to

  EXILE In the foreign city with an incomprehensible language you are walking along unfamiliar streets; not even the water of the river which flows under the stone

    THAT SLIVER OF NOTHINGNESS O you, who are so distant, yet so intimate in your silent possession of me— Am I loving the unknown, rather than