To read the original poetry in Spanish by Circe Maia ________ For a feature on Brindin Press ________ For more Poetry

Circe Maia Translated by Brian Cole Stages Small and persistent changes. Under the sky is now a degree of luminosity or gentle warmth. More dust has fallen on the floor or on the chair. The tiniest wrinkle appears or deepens. There is a new tone in the sound of the familiar voice (would you notice?). In a confused choir of intermingled voices some are missing, others now join in. 8888888888888Just the same sum total: there are no changes. A millionth wave strikes against A millionth rock 8888888888888 and the erosion, imperceptible and certain, continues. Klee These little squares are exciting, of different colours, like tiles, one red, another yellow, another black. Splashing different shades they amazingly suggest divisions of time: one now, one then, the ticking of the clock. Scattered different moments. There also appear mysterious games of motionless counters. The movement is in the eyes That jump from one to the other. The little coloured squares are there. 8888888888888They wait and erupt, intermittently, at the very edge of sight. An Amazonian Myth Hear the history of Death. It was on earth, hidden. It was not below. An underground water, pure, was drunk by the immortals under the earth. Who was to blame? He who went out and broke bounds and jumped outside because he heard the song of a bird. He should not have listened. He should not have gone out. He left the place of safety. He collected fruits, plants, and carried them inside, below. And in every fruit there was a seed of death. The seeds fell. They germinated.