Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Some more poems...



Last Dawn

Your hair lost in the forest,
your feet touching mine.
Asleep you are bigger than the night,
but your dream fits within this room.
How much we are who are so little!
Outside a taxi passes
with its load of ghosts.
The river that runs by
                                is always
running back.

Will tomorrow be another day?


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                                                   Image copyright: Flintarts.org





Interior


Warring thoughts try
to split my skull

This writing moves
through streets of birds

My hand thinks out loud
a word calls to another

On this page where I write
I see beings that come and go

The book and the notebook
unfold their wings and rest

The lamps are lit the hour
opens and closes like a bed

With red stockings and a pale face
you and the night come in


- From Salamander
The Collected poems of Octavio Paz
1957-1987
Edited by Eliot Weinberger

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