DPF / Neruda

For, as they say, the clouds cried today, finally, and that reminds me of the ocean. From The House in the Sand: Prose Poems by Pablo Neruda.

from The Sea / by Pablo Neruda, translated by Dennis Maloney and Clark M. Zlotchew

The salt of seven leagues, horizontal salt, crystalline salt of the rectangle, stormy salt, the salt of the seven seas, salt.

DPF / Borges

For dreams and cataloguing the wild, from Dreamtigers.

from Ragnarök / by Jorges Luis Borges, translated by Mildred Boyer and Harold Morland

A voice cried out, ‘Here they come!’ and then, ‘The Gods! The Gods!’ Four of five fellows emerged from the mob and took over the platform of the assembly hall. We all applauded, weeping: these were the Gods, returning after a centuries-long exile.

DPF / Rivera

PIA: from August 30, 2015. I don’t know that simple things exist after all; the more simple a thing appears at first glance, the more it lends itself to infinite camera angles, infinite thoughts, reflections, and points of view.

For light, from Mouth to Mouth: Poems by Twelve Contemporary Mexican Women, edited by Forrest Gander.

from Untitlted / by Silvia Tomasa Rivera (b. El Higo, Veracruz, 3.7.1956), translated by Janet Rodney

It’s something much simpler,
like opening a window and touching that luminous spot
bursting in the cup of your hands.

DPF / Borges

PIA: from July 18, 2014.

For prose poetry and tigers. From the book, Dreamtigers, and from the poem of the same name. More here:

from Dreamtigers / by Jorge Luis Borges (1899–1986)

In my childhood, I was a fervent worshiper of the tiger

DPF / Drummond de Andrade

For grace, from the FSG book of Twentieth-Century Latin American Poetry, edited by Ilan Stavans.

from The Disappearance of Luisa Porto / by Carlos Drummond de Andrade, translated by Thomas Colchie

No more searching. Silence the radios.
The calm of petals opening
in a blue garden
where hearts are unburdened

DPF / Huidobro

For cantos in winter, from The FSG Book of Twentieth-Century Latin American Poetry, edited by Ilan Stavans.

from Altazor: Canto III / by Vicente Huidobro (1893-1948, Chile), translated by Eliot Weinberger

The sea is a roof of bottles
That dreams in the sailor’s memory