Sin dientes, pero con dientes como sierra y a la noche no cierra el negro terciopelo que lo entierra entre el clavel y el clavón crujiente. Bailados sueños y las jácaras molientes sacan el vozarrón Santiago de la tierra. Noctámbulo tizón traza en vuelo ardientes elipses en Nápoles donde el agua yerra. Muérdago en semilla hinchado por la brisa risota en el infierno, el tiburón quemado escamas sueltas, tonsura yerto. En el fin de los fines ¿qué es esto? Roto maíz entuerto en el faisán barniza y en la horca se salva encaramado.
Portrait of Don Francisco de Quevedo
Without teeth, but with teeth as it saws and does not close at night the black velvet that buries it between the carnation and the creaking shoulderblade. Dancing dreams and the softening jacarandas extract the echoing Santiago from the ground. Active at night ember plans in flight ardent ellipses in Naples where the water congeals. Mistletoe in seed inflated by the breeze resounds in hell, the burnt shark free scales, shears stiffly. In the end of ends: what is this? Broken corn wrong in the pheasant varnishes and in the gallows it is saved raised.
I've published six poetry collections, including Chantal's Book (2002), A Clearer View of the Hinterland (2014) and The Oceanic Feeling (2021), as well as several works of fiction: most recently Haunts (2024). In 2022 I retired from my job as a Senior Lecturer in Creative Writing at Massey University, but I continue to blog at The Imaginary Museum.
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