SCRIPTUS INTERRUPTUS

  Strolling around the river gauche at Quai Voltaire I stopped over one of those bouquiniste stands by the Seine to take a quick glance into...

estoy a bordo de un tren Ferrol-Gijón,  voy a ver a un amigo enfermo que vive en Burelas.  Gaviotas, cuervos que emergen  de una niebla per...

The sound of water, the whisper of water trickling over the conical hat of Matsuo Basho, over the glossy plantain leaves under the moon. He ...

  I Teetering on the brink of a blue poppy, a bee. Melancholy over a mossy headstone, a white cat. II One, two, three crows space out on a h...

  A balmy day     there is no match  not a single soul    I come to the football stadium  to wind down on the top side of the bleachers  nea...

  I would like to spend my last eternity   with the wild horses. Up in the high mountains where  the sea is only a dream of clouds. I'd ...

  As solitary people weaving  esparto grass by the moon I weave this words by my self.  Weave and weave into a basket with no other aim but ...