guillermo veloso Poems

One a saint
One a rogue
One a poet
One a stone
...

Mist came after the thunder
Sleep came to us all
All the children
Lay in a row wrapped in cloth
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One by one they feel
The cold sharp blade of indifference
One by one they fell
Gathered up by
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Blood flows under bomb blast
Concrete tears nightmare fear mothers hear this
Child dresses doll in black
...

Only at full moon

Deathly pale
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My melancholy stains the day
Litters these streets empty and hollow of sound
This heaviness weighs on as
City horses myopic and deaf
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I allowed myself
To be myself
Never realizing that I have
No self to allow,
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Now on the gravel lie
River rock and mayfly passion
A moment alone
A sliver of solitude
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Broken and tired on
An autumn morning
I slipped on the golden wet leaves of a sleeping tree
With a fire locked in my bones
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Who knew where Lorca lay on his final day
Where the duende found its rest
Only fire blooms there
Persistent and impatient
...