El Periferico, or Sleep

A man hurls ten thousand shovels of gravel at a window shield

propped upside a wheelbarrow in like manner only the powder

passes into the wheelbarrow and the gray stones fall to the ground.

You musta died one time to live like this.

Yeah he says I died one time and I had lost my ear

so I was looking for it in a field and the stars were like a seiner's gin and then they were like a combination of parts to form a whole of nerves

and then they were like a sieve I came from one side

that right back into this geographical division and got a job and married

the woman the first sum of two units things

she said to me in that fiery field holding in her hands

my ear were by what mode this country now is replete

only of pilgrims and residue and her name is Beatriz ending

like light extremitys with a z.

Copyright World poesy Incorporated Jul/Aug 1996

Provided through ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved