“My house has been burned; I have been detained more than once; I have been exiled; they have declared me incommunicado . . . Very well then. I'm not comfortable with what I have.”

On the sand
a
lizard

In the half-sun of long days
let us draw our tired bones together

let us forget the unfaithful ones

I was fourteen years old,
brooding, a proud of it,
slim, lithe and frowning,

Now this is it, said Death,
and as far as I could see
Death was looking at me.

A man says yes without knowing
how to decide even what the question is,
and is caught up, and then is carried along

I went into the tool shops
in all innocence
to buy a simple hammer

Why such harsh machinery?
Why, to write down the stuff
and people of every day,

Then I arrived at the capital, vaguely saturated
with fog and rain. What streets were those?
The garments of 1921 were breeding

I keep a blue bottle.
Inside it an ear and a portrait.
When the night dominates