"The patio is the slope
down which the sky flows into the house."
Fevor de Buenos Aires, "The Patio," p. 15

"Free of memory and hope,
unlimited, abstract, almost future,
the dead body is not somebody: It is death."
Fervor de Buenos Aires, "Remorse for Any Death," p. 21

"Three hundred nights like three hundred walls
must rise between my love and me
and the sea will be a black art between us."
Fervor de Buenos Aires, "Parting," p. 29

"Big long-suffering street,
you are the only music my life has understood."
Moon Across the Way, "Street with a Pink Corner Store," p. 37

"I walk slowly, like one who comes from so far away he doesn't expect to
arrive."
Moon Across the Way, "Boast of Quietness," p. 43

"I am touched by the frail wisdoms
lost in every man's death—
his habit of books, of a key, of one body among...