Sevilla,
Spain
by
Urquiza
Vicente
Abandoned dock at night
on the thigh of the Gualdaquiver.
The grope of oars
bending branches of amber light,
licking, cleaning,
the cerulean lens of the apparatus.
All I can drink of this river
is anarchy & wind,
the pure tint of spirit
whistling downstream,
washing the imagination's laundry,
drenching the turgid.
The emotions of bashful lovers
wade at the basin,
their hesitant sounds
sinking into a single limb,
capsizing perpetually
their vows of celibacy.
Sky turns
from informant to secret.
The truth so far away,
the peace so near.
We all must drown someplace.
I'm glad I do here.