Chilpanchingo

Reading Basho in early Summer
grass pillow heron

beached darkness
where Azaleas caress
the whale's nipples

silo clock
limp synod etched
palatine pause

fish mirroring
absence, its sterno,
draino

Gautier astonished
at M. Robert-Houdin

MOT: How are your vowels working?
ART: Haven't been issued with any, sir?
MOT: I mean, are you constirpated?
ART: No, sir, I volunteered.
MOT: Heavens, man, don't you know the King's English?
ART: No sir, Is he?

For some time, a great calm
raged.

Call me sometime.

like when some of the pretty girls
of Mexico City get into those cars
for the Covadonga

that would be late summer
after the massive peyote dolls
would have fallen apart

when the hair tornadoes
exit the cubist fiddles

la suerte de la Garocha
if you know what i mean?