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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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