We are many – Pablo Neruda

Of the many men who I am, who we are, I can’t find a single; they disappear among my clothes, they’ve left for another city. When everything seems to be set to show me off as intelligent, the fool I always keep hidden takes over all that I say. At other times, I’m asleep among…

The People

  The People  I recall that man and not two centuries have passed since I saw him, he went neither by horse nor by carriage: purely on foot he outstripped distances, and carried no sword or armour, only nets on his shoulder, axe or hammer or spade, never fighting the rest of his species: his…

Pablo Neruda

Granted one poet’s experience with manual metaphysics doesn’t make a poetics; but I’ve pared my nails to the quick to temper my craft and these shabby prescriptions I learned for myself, at first hand, If you find them uncouth for a poet’s vocation, I agree – no apologies needed! I smile toward the future and…

Sweetness,always(Dulce siempre)

Why such harsh machinery? Why, to write down the stuff and people of everyday, must poems be dressed up in gold, in old and fearful stone? I want verses of felt or feather which scarcely weigh, mild verses with the intimacy of beds where people have loved and dreamed. I want poems stained by hands…