LAUREN LAVITT   –  a small anthology  (organized by R.A.)

TINO   

by John Puhiatau Pule 

Huidobro, I too met the virgin seated on a rose,

she was bringing herself to orgasm by thinking of life.

She said, the trees have a special yearning

only the wind can compromise;

emptiness has a sound compared

to a name. A name is a silent

 

insect the loneliest man sees;

it sometimes sculpts bread

from stone and water.

A name is an inorganic desire,

 

it reaches into the loneliness of eyes,

finds a secluded time only

the lost soul knows. My soul

 

is a name. It realizes the empty

houses carry on tradition

when sad memories has no name.