By Dom Moraes I -wake and find myself in love:And this one time I do not doubt.I only fear, and wander outTo hold long parley with a dove. The innocent and the guilty, metHere in the garden, feel no fear.But I’m afraid of you, my dear.There was a reason: I Read more…
By Dom Moraes The architecture of an auntMade the child dream of cupolas,Domes, other smoothly rounded shapes.Geometries troubled his sleep. The architecture of young womenMildly obsessed the young man:Its globosity, firmness, texture,Lace cobwebs for adornment and support. Miles from his aunt, the old childWatched domes and cupolas defacedIn a hundred Read more…
By Dom Moraes Smear out the last star.No lights from the islandsOr hills. In the great squareThe prolonged vowel of silenceMakes itself plainly heardRound the ghost of a headlandClouds, leaves, shreds of birdEddy, hindering the wind. No vigils left to keep.No enemies left to slaughter.The rough roofs of the slopes,Loosely Read more…