You chose, as I choose to despair, or not on a given night or day. That despair turned inside out you called… — Ana Castillo

The road in either direction

is neither longer nor shorter,

nor more narrow nor wider

than the fear that closes your heart.

paintings

and books conceal more than they ever tell.

As if we should not be scandalized

by surprise bombing over any city at night,

bombs scandalizing the sanctity of night.