Joropo en Barinas, Venezuela

This performance of joropo music and dancing was arranged to greet me at the small airport in Barinas, Venezuela, when I arrived as part of the 9th Annual Festival Mundial de Poesia, held in honor of poet and photographer Enrique Hernandez d'Jesus.  Sorry for the confusing turns of the camera.  Joropo music is played by three instruments, here as is traditional a harp, guitar, and maracas.  Barinas is in the south of Venezuela and on Los Llanos (flatlands) not far from the Andes.  A book of my poetry, Intencion y su materia, translated by the wonderful Mexican poet, Maria Baranda, was published by Monte Avila Editores and presented at the conference's main site in Caracas.

desolation : souvenir

My book desolation : souvenir was published in early February by Omnidawn Publishing, and there was a publication event at Moe's Books in Berkeley.  The book is available at stores includng Moe's and directly from Omnidawn, Small Press Distribution, and Amazon.com, among others.  Thanks very much to Rusty Morrison and Ken Keegan.

Peter Burghardt's video of me reading: (http://vimeo.com/39803278)
Small Press Distribution:  www.spdbooks.org. 

Here are four pages of the of the 50-page title poem:

the taste of me is you

father is language

            mother its meaning

life is a sentence

            death is past time 

the parents are aged

            by the death of their child

but her future is secure

            earth speaks trees

each clearing has its thicket

            mind its maze

 her death is their pastime

            too short a life to discover

the shadows in a fire

            what future did she imagine

no time even

            to witness a change of fashion

no logic to the senses

if this can happen

            everything will

we’ll miss the gods we were

            shadows cut from sun 

after light trespasses

            it stands in the room

death’s on death’s bed

            myth holds a candle

you can feel the end

            breathing through the ceiling

 earth draws the final line

            we’re knee-deep in language

must travel to infinity

            to see your daughter’s eyes

the taste of me is you

 the song is called an ‘air’

            the weight of earth is speaking

the loss of each word massive

            dead flowers, living grave     

 so poorly loved

            now dearly understood

our friend of the hours lost

            no desert to cross to save you

 we were two of you

            & you were time aching

so sweet it’s almost suffering

            the ghost of us is passing

eternity really means it 

we’ll fiercely live forever

            we who still remember

the bee inside a flower

            we let the moon run

because it is old

            and half underwater    

have faith and you’ll eat dove

            in a dark corner of china

its freshly chopped feet

            rolling in the broth

life is all the facts

            at the speed of attention

 destiny’s souvenirs

            are inexpensively purchased

a pair of stone scissors

            whatever calls out shining

children pretend  to die

            come to life again, delighted