Peru

Peru

Dogs here live in the streets, the filthier the happier.
They neither obey nor have behavioral issues, unlike ours.

I received a Quechuan blessing in a Colonial church
and felt the hooves of Spanish horses trampling my home.

Followed by police, a gypsy woman stormed
the Plaza de Armas, stabbing the city trees with a shiv.

In Arequipa, a 500 year old frozen girl, clubbed
in the skull and offered to the gods on Mount Ampato.

Eduardo handed me a machete though I was only
joking. He taught me to make it zing through bamboo.

Deep in Peruvian jungles they grow wealthy on cocaine
and peddle the sacred coca leaf to sick tourists.

Looking back at Lima I flipped over my handlebars
and bit the sand of the Pacific. Pachamama.

by Ryan Dowling

Suicide by Federico Garcia Lorca

Suicide (translation by Alan S. Trueblood)

(Maybe it was because you hadn’t
mastered your geometry)

The lad was going blank.
It was ten in the morning.

His heart was growing full
of broken wings and rag flowers.

He noticed there remained
just one word on his lips.

And when he took off his gloves
a soft ash fell from his hands.

A tower showed through the balcony door.
He felt he was balcony and tower.

No doubt he saw how the clock,
stopped in its case, surveyed him.

He saw his shadow quiet and prone
on the white silk divan.

And the stiff, geometrical youth
smashed the mirror with a hatchet.

When it broke, a great burst of shadow
flooded the illusory room.

by Federico Garcia Lorca (1898-1936)