With Neruda in Hand and Lorca at my Knee, I ask:

[LynnDoiron]

Is someone waiting for me under dragon’s blood trees
where grounded leaves curl like arm cuffs, like cornhusks?
Will I be found a deuce of diamonds? or hearts, cut
by the hoe of habit and cadaver quiet of thoughts?

Each day a little; each day a lot; the sea and saw of tides
more blood than wine, more ours than mine. Death
is dark-eyed and pounding the dyes from bases of leaves
harvested of those dragons’ bloods, applied to violins

made red that play for me – saw and see a twilight’s
bleed lick foam-edged to these planted feet in shells
and broken bottles. There is no city here but sand
that grates a cutting edge of what would wound.

~

And then, after Lorca's Juan Breva, this: Josephine Dehullu [removed to post with Schottisch Miniatures series.]

[LeoVictorBriones (poetremains)]

This is inspired...love this line:

the sea and saw of tides
more blood than wine, more ours than mine.

great stuff. No edits but I'll read some more and see if I come up with anything...not sure I like corn husks with Lorca and Neruda is all.

[LynnDoiron]

Thanks, Leo. Have moved the Josephine poem to the series just posted where I have several poems in a familial run loosely based upon Lorca's Flamenca Vignettes but offering small portraitures of members of my late husbands family, and me.

[Ron Wallace (Scotshawk)]

Lord, what a fine sound this takes on, and the cornhusks don't bother me at all. Thay feel right in place with the the hoe of habits. I don't see them as incongruous at all.
I agree with Leo on the superb quality of the lines he quotes. They are a part of the fine assonant sound and moving rhythm of the poem. Top notch work, my friend. Ron

[MichaelFirewalker]

yes, the sound is good, and so is the rhyme, and the color, and the variety of textures in such a short piece, and the deep-gutted emotions that run amok, line to line to line----yes, here is fine, formed from the infamous stuff of dreams...

michael

[purplejacket]

whaaaaahhhhhhh

zumbida zoom, fallalla, for lack of anything intelligent to say.

can I show this to some friends?

[LynnDoiron]

thank you, michael -- those poets I emulate do such wonderful things with texture and color so I am please that these show up in my piece.

whaaahhhhhhhhhhhh, zumida zure youz kin show diz fallallla debiddiddee-dooo to friends. [that's my best six-year-old speak -- make of it what you can!]