It’s one a.m. and I’m still up. I should have gone to bed a few hours ago, but my best brain activity seems to kick in long after sunset, long after phones have stopped ringing and no one is apt to come to the door. In the wee hours of darkness there is a tremendous long stretch of solitude that lends itself to writing. I can’t say what I look like the next day or what time I’ll want to roll out of bed, and I know that in about three weeks, I’ll have to stop all of this staying up until the roosters crow. I’ll be back at my day job, but in the meantime, I write at night, just because….
Month: July 2011
Following La Triste Noche
When Senor Cortez cried
beneath the tree, wept
for greedy soldiers
whose stolen gold sank
into brackish waters;
what destiny brought
him back upon us
to kill with disease,
with hunger and canons
except the fate that brought
Mexico to these far hills
where she learned to sing
Irish ballads.