les deserts de l'amour,

Sean Bonney

James Baldwin, An Open Letter to My Sister, Miss Angela Davis from The New York Review, Jan 1971

Roland Topour, Pour Laura

-- Bonnie Prince Billy, No Bad News

Tomé Duarte, Camera woman, 2015

a mover mis manos entre el algodón de las nubes a estirar mis piernas atrapadas por tus piernas a conducir una moto por la arena a pedalear en una bicicleta bajo alamedas de imaginación a quedarme quieta como estatua de bronce a quedarme inmóvil fumando Delicados en ntra. esquina los reflectores azules del salón van a mostrar mi rostro goteado de rimmel y arañazos, ustedes van a ver una constelación de lágrimas en mis mejillas, voy a salir corriendo enséñame a pegar mi cuerpo a tus heridas enséñame a sostener tu corazón un ratito en mi mano a abrir mis piernas como se abren las flores para el viento para sí mismas, para el rocío de la tarde enséñame a bailar, esta noche quiero seguirte el compás abrirte las puertas de la azotea llorar en tu soledad mientras desde tan arriba miramos automóviles, camiones, autopistas llenas de policías y máquinas ardiendo enséñame a abrir las piernas y métemelo contén mi histeria dentro de tus ojos acaricia mis cabellos y mi miedo con tus labios que tanta maldición han pronunciado, tanta sombra sostenido enséñame a dormir, esto es el fin.

Kahlil Gibran

The Mushrooms of Language, Henry Munn

I didn't want to look at the huge white egg the mother spider dragged along behind her, attached to her abdomen, held off the ground, bigger than her own head-- and inside it: hundreds of baby spiders feeding off the nest, and in what seemed like the next minute, spinning their own webs quickly and crazily, bumping into each other's and breaking them, then mending and moving over, and soon they got it right: each in his or her own circle and running around it. And then they slept, each in the center of a glistening thing: a red dot in ether. Last night the moon was as big as a house at the end of the street, a white frame house, and rising, and I thought of a room it was shining in, right then, a room I might live in and can't imagine yet. And this morning, I thought of a place on the ocean where no one is, no boat, no fish jumping, just sunlight gleaming on the water, humps of water that hardly break. I have argued bitterly with the man I love, and for two days we haven't spoken. We argued about one thing, but really it was another. I keep finding myself standing by the front windows looking out at the street and the walk that leads to the front door of this building, white, unbroken by footprints. Anything I've ever tried to keep by force I've lost.