I see, I see…


The bird in paradise

Once you no longer crave it all the world’s treasures arrives. When the eye perceives memory as (whichever) station of fear.

Nonexistent the tempest of swords. Even that isle of white, rancorous estuaries. Its charm the forever out of reach. Land where a heart full of dreams is packed in hot ice.

To live that ocean, that dance: the great human tenacity, the test of winter, carnal extravagance at the peak of its night.

Every defeat is an effort. Yet once in a while, when the surface is scratched, the most improbable bird of paradise alights on the contagion of time and appears to the searcher, who seeks what she already has.

María Negroni, 1995

The Storm Cone

This is the midnight-let no star delude us-dawn is very far.
This is the tempest long foretold slow to make head but sure to hold.

Stand by! The lull’twixt blast and blast signals the storm is near, not past;
And worse than present jeopardy May our forlorn tomorrow be.

Rudyard Kipling, 1932