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SOMETIMES the house overflew of expectation and we had no place to stand; then we went out to the world, crying like the first time, while, far away, the horizon with its intense abandonment hid us inside the secret, until at night a harp was heard from the uninhabited house. It was the time of the great dreamer who has never disappeared for eons, yet always walks toward oblivion.
VI Meditative her heavy breast inside the mirror VII Again I dress myself in the tree’s foliage and you bleat VIII Night the wind separation spreads and undulates IX The young Fate Naked woman the pomegranate she broke was full of stars X Now I raise a dead butterfly without any make-up XI How can you put together the thousand little pieces of each person?
The Bait A long-time deckhand on the Gigantic adventurous trawler traversing over the huge waves of Alaska waters, dry maple tree leaf tossed around by merciless winds, dry leaf blown over a lump of soil eroding, shifting, kneading, morphing, molding new schemes and images, new dreams like Rob’s who traveled the ups and downs of a fisher’s life hardly reaching the mere length of a line, affording a simple life, a pack of beer, fisher like a fish hooked on a hardened hook of unknown fishers anchored like a heavy metal fastened onto a blob in the depths of an ocean reaching as far as the length allotted to him by a hook keeping the bait ready to dare the fish’s bite such as Rob’s life, hooked as a bait daring Hades to bite and perhaps swallow him and perhaps gulp him like an ocean fish gulps its bait only that Rob was to be weighted on the scale of the perennial tyrant, like an increment, a statistic of the annual catch, Rob, the bait who never dared to break his line and run around the sea’s gleaming reflections just like another free fish, Rob, the bait, challenging Hades to a historic duel, one winner, always the taker, one winner who has never been the bait.