In the Neighborhood Where Each House Is a Reason

Listen

In these landscapes of domestic sound

We drink in remembrance of a great useless

Fluttering of divine wings

Night has no desire at all to come down so

We raise up the bed on which divinity descends

 

At a given moment

We slip beneath the sheets of kind unloved words

And lie once again on the breast of our absence

We dream we go to San Cristobal de las Casas

We dream we go there to see the ruins of Chiapas

In this dream we hear how only for a little while

Something climbs out of silence

Of course we have not been given the power

Even to imagine the music of that stillness

We can't conceive that hushed music

In this dream we eat

Drool-squandered cassava and melon

As the void sneers in our faces

In this dream we find ourselves

We even find our minds

Enfolded in our bodiless desire

Neighbors in the street are dancing
Neighbors in the street contemplate our love