susueño

fire at convection ,east

the fleet your corner

lost ,stupid glue or

sawdust drifting on a

lake ,la sombra

negra del volcán al

otro lado where my

eyecloud shifts

,rises from the water

apt to boil ,yr shoe

yr compact sock and

tongueless lost yr

feet just “walk” a

cross the halted edge of sleep

Sueño el que foñamos. Quela

con ñijxicàla pecàla.

- Juan de Cordoua, 1578