When you don’t have to spell out that you love.
North London Sonnet
A boom-box boats by,
less music than sonic muscle
assaulting the night sky,
a pumped-up hustle-bustle
which manages to disturb
the twirly, needling alarm
of a car tucked into the kerb—
its mantra, or charm—
but that too, soon, quiets
and you sleep on, proof
against the rumpuses and riots
encircling our roof,
till my switching off the light
prompts a muffled Good Night
From: London a History in Verse, ed by Mark Ford.
You know your glance bedecks the sailboats
In the rocking nights of the catch
You know your glance ties the knot of stars
And the knot of song that will come from this chest
Your glance carries the word to the heart
And the enchanted mouth of a nightingale
There’s no time to lose
At the hour of the body in the dubious shipwreck
I measure the infinite step by step
The sea waits to conquer
So there’s no time to lose
. Ah then
Beyond the last horizon
We’ll see what there is to see
From: Pinholes in the Night, essential poems for Latin America. Selected by Raul Zurita, edited by Forrest Gander.
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