No soy indigena. A a cualquier lugar. And so these songs make me sad today. And instead of longing for place, I long for times that it stopped mattering that I don't have one. For people who made with me place that was ours like places can only belong to people in love.
That is what the poem is about, and the face sort of. I guess it is me a bit too, though I didn't mean it that way. But part of longing for other time-places I think is longing for who we were or could be. And I do miss the person made through me with him and maybe part of me wants her back, the me of particular created time and place. The imagery comes from the particulars of a summer, an attic, a garden, a promise, and a lie.
Poems are cryptic thus, evasive even if not vague, leaving things which are solid to be other than what they say they are, leaving them always open to new meanings. If I continue to add poetry to this notebook, I would be curious to hear what meanings my poems take on. Please do share.
I'd find another word beyond inside joke--which lessens what your telling rather than heightens. There was no trace of "lo amargo" in your work last... The songs are full of desengaño and traición...sometimes, I think, as máscara for...
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