Today, I cannot find your grave,
because the stone with your name
is set in the earth,
down, where it is not in the way,
...
Tonight the moon
hangs in the weeping willow,
a silver ornament,
in golden branches.
...
My heart moves and
wind moves the banners of my heart.
If your lips have not forgotten me,
know this:
...
That hot afternoon in Autumn
she came, as if gliding in
on the yielding waters.
She lay, mirrored
...
This poem is dedicated to all the men, women and children who have been
tortured and murdered and lost. People call them 'The Disappeared.'
All over the world
...
Oh, there is voodoo in your words,
and your wrists tell jingle-jangle
of blue-green bangles,
turqoise and silver
...
Scent of toothpaste and cigar,
he could not go to sleep,
waiting, fearing hoping,
that maybe tonight
...