Songs of Dawns-Americas Occult Odysseys that ceaselessly come to us by snippets written a thousand years ago by new men erased at the pace of waters by bearded, guardian gods – Barbarians. What barbaric words will sing the infinite delicacy of the opossum’s walk, or the cabin boys’ transverse flute? What language can wipe the past slaughters? I don’t know anymore I want to write a huge legend and upholster the wrong side of the forest with these dead voices May I tell you that which I couldn’t experience? Which spell to cast as I dive in the copper-colored water of the cove? What was I trying to delete, to wash out from my thighs, the frame of which was troubled by water? I watch as the flat tints of the rain season settle Shamelessly I pick the acid cherries brought by December’s damp fogs Two drops of the blood of that invincible warrior of m...