A wee performance at Desperate Literature Bookshop. Madrid. 14th April 2017.
New poems written while in Andalucia, Spain.
hangin in old moorish streets of Grenada. Reading Lorca in NY while I am in Grenada. Bones on fire in 40 degree heat but can´t type worth a damn on ancient devices. Nuts with white wine on the lower east side of Grenada. 4.20am. This was glowing in the sky.
Lorca: “Poetry doesn’t need skilled practitioners, she needs lovers, and she lays down brambles and shards of glass for the hands that search for her with love.” Maybe I do go to poetry for answers. But not answers in the empirical sense. What is an answer anyway? Is love an