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NEBLINA

6am in a wintery parking lot in Philmont, NY.

 

I found myself surrounded by the most dense and chilly fog I'd ever know.

I had woken up very early, not on purpose, and drove in the morning darkness to my workshop space across the river.

Envoloped in brume I sat in my Jeep and wrote this poem, dedicated to my sleepy eyes and wild dreams.

_____​

Neblina

Pupila soñadora, no te exijo
A transitar
De la sauna de la noche
Al hielo matinal,
No…
Tomemos primero un tecito
Que su neblina te caliente
La llegada — hola! —
A la mañana, exhalando
El vapor de tus sueños.

 

_____
 

Later my friend Carlos Dall'Asta sweetly put music and voice to my words.

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