OCEAN’S MARCH (Excerpt IV)
Silver cloud next to the moon
The old seamen
who don’t have caiques anymore
who don’t have nets anymore
sit on the rock
and smoke in their pipes
voyages shadowed and remorseful
But we don’t know anything
about ashes in the taste of a voyage
We know the voyage
and the glaucous semicircle of the horizon
which is like the wild eyebrow
of a sea god
We jump on the boats
untie the lines
and sing to the sea
staring at the opened cloud
next to the spring moon
Which diamond city
sleeps behind the mountains?
Which lights shiver in the night
and call us?
Libros Libertad 