Picasso’s a lie that helps us see truth.
His audience permits desired impact,
sensibilities convey pauperization of Mexico.
Bare feet rustle the water jar,
surprising image moves by quality intended.
Carefully chosen parts imply by analogy
transmit subject directly.
Synecdoche less than science, essence of art.
Single stem with twin flowers, Mexico,
dos flores gemelas, vida y muerta,
truth more secure, las aguas del bautismo.
Visions of unity easily proved wrong,
practical advice a resolution not offered.
Petrified field a fountain!
Dust of tall trees’ rustling bark!
Taste of such splendor, sound of panting!
A cold volcano, bare hills of stone!
How Little the Power, Emily
How little the power, Emily, over ourselves,
the size of our lives, the tangled stars
that incline our futures towards this or that
How far the page’s edge, how soon
the corner’s narrow end?
Stars, trekking across the table,
urging on in every direction,
fixed in a single starting place,
suggest the many possibilities before us,
laughing, while they stay safely