the town as usual
misses the noise of the
microphone
wanting to see boxing
bouts not just during
the Feasts
but also on ordinary days
this only second
to gambling
these fighting cocks
that dominate
the itinerary
of the month and all
the poor men gather
and try their luck
to get rich
even for a day
the church is nearby
and its bells are silent
copy paste
the silence of the
cemeteries
These are poetic experiments. Man's quest for the poetic element never ceases. He is always caught in the eye of awe. He does not make the rules now. The rules change depending on the emotion that time and space feed him. He must see everything with his wide eyes gaping. The beginning of poetry too, like philosophy is wonder. Look and see. Do not stop wondering You are the poet. And everything is poetry. Wonder. Wander.
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