en el monte...

I am so scattered lately, I lack a narrowing lens,

all scenes blending to older channels,  inside simulcast newer Dreams...&

yes! Those Dreams in between...I, too, have buried books!

Sisters,we?

I buried one of my books in an exquisitely beautiful town en el monte, in rural central Mexico,

a place so pure, her Air so clean,

her people do not cease to dance slowly, drowsed inside my Dreams,

deep,

deep inside,

pure, pooling eyes so rich with love.. 

I have set about searching my poetry's bed.

People's bodies were moved into a museum, due to overcrowding;

A young ingenious man dug for my book before he passed into the dream museum. He was a farmer; "humilde," he described himself.

He holds one of my buried books. I mean to hold its Heart once more in my Journey; I mean to behold his Heart in my eyes.

one Day, in our travels, I will speak with him, Soul to Soul.

**inspired by conversations with Alessandra, December 2010