Hear the throbbing of space
it is the steps of a season in heat
across the embers of the year

Murmur of wings and rattles
the far-off drumbeat of the storm
the crackling and panting of the earth
under its cape of roots and bugs

Thirst wakes and builds
great cages of glass
where your nakedness is water in chains
water that sings and breaks loose from its chains

Armed with the arms of summer
you come into my room come into my mind
and untie the river of language
look at yourself with these hurried words

Bit by bit the day burns out
over the erasing landscape
your shadow is a land of birds
the sun scatters with a wave.


“Your nakedness is water in chains” speaks conceptual volumes. It is the perfect metaphor to describe my personal perspective on movement. Thank you, Señor Paz.

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