La Peregrina Magazine (c) Todos los Derechos Reservados, 2008-09
into the invertebrate light
we find our faces a billion moons away
stirring up bones at the earth´s core.
The wind swept sail and globe
above the plains.
Two rivers meet
where there is neither beginning nor end
where we collapse into each other
and dive into the ocean floor.
I stand at the foot of a volcano rising
at the birth of the Andes.
Scratch, I say, the forest canopy.
And with grinding teeth
its magma rose
above the torque of plates
Yes, it rose speciated
the white dolphin of the Yangtsé.
a foot print
dug out from clay and sandstone
Dredge still the last knuckle bone
the sabre tooth.
Rippling in water flow
the white skin
the brook now wide open
a sign of self.
Isel Rivero, August 2008