IMAGE HOMAGE

(’79)

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– “I’m resigned to the last trip,”
says papá
in a typewritten letter in Spanish,
postmarked Grand Central Station.

Mamá died 17 years ago.

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TO BE REVISED

(’74 – ’75)

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– Eight hundred and fifty-seven million,
one hundred and thirty-two thousand,
nine hundred and three,
soldiers killed.

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LáGRIMAS

(’77 – ’78)

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– Tears…
the kind that,
if you’re not careful…
reflect images.

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EASTERN TRIP

(’80 – ’81)

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– This Holiday Inn poem
leans toward the second floor rear,
where the air conditioning plant
& the laundry room,
carry on a lively reverberation,,,

– No Rolling Stones or Manuel Orantes
staying here,
Connecticut’s sun
after the South Bronx’s pyres///

– At a nearby stream,
no muggers to civilize you…
the waters seem to say,
“Must rush! must rush! must rush!”

– I think of my long-time
Colombian friend, Andrés,
killed in his taxi by a robber,
a few weeks past,
and of the rabbi who said,
as he read the eulogy,
“I never met Andrés,
so I can’t say much about him.”

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CARAMBA!

(’78- ’79)

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– Damn it!

– Woke up in this madhouse,
after being a poet,,,
all night!

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