Jones Beach

Guillermo Filice Castro Naturally you can’t hear me Over those boys Who’ve hung a momentary eclipse Above our blanket With their soccer ball. In lieu of conversation We watch and shiver; they yell and grunt. What carries all of us through? A tremendous bounce Toward the sun. And just as fast, of course, The fall.… More


Guillermo Filice Castro into a hole something      of the self always disappears light    mother tongue into mouths and this morning that bunch of hairs peeled off the drain and dropped into the toilet almost as mournful       a gesture as a wreath laid in the ocean Guillermo Filice Castro’s work… More