A man of many sorrows
-endless tomorrows.
There is a finish of a race
just begun for
a president has been born
to raise up the Son.
Poems of my fathers draw near
- Gisella Perezarce
- Pasadena, California, United States
- Inspired by the poems of my great-grandfather, grandmother, and my father, my sister and I continue to write. This is a simple offering of mine.
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From the other edge of what I say
lays a bridge to get to my word,
each time I mention my name
my name comes back to me, unformed
each time I say water, the water turns to wind
the wind turns to fire, the fire turns to my exact name
but much more full and more unknown
I throw words, names, verses to the edge each time,
and each time they announce new intensities
of what I don’t know
I should throw on this bridge
what I don’t say, my silence
so that some time
it becomes a poem
Brooklin Bridge, New York City, October 1997
Mario Bojórquez
visita http://hiperboreos.blogspot.com
You show me how poets can be prophets, too.
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