Meeting Benches World art in all forms
IN THE CLOCK OF THE WATER
A woman writes a poem with golden edges, dreams wonders born from her chest, everything seems possible. Her body is a multitude, has just hands and feet, and its pores remind us of the transparency of the angels, when they sit on the clouds to hunt sparks for their flashes. A woman wakes up made up of beaches, made of salt, which is plenty of concerts, which are all languages of the world, of births and deaths, which are all the unknown of the world and of life. A woman wakes up artificer of her mysteries, possesses the power of her voice, and writes a poem with golden edges, on the fragility of lightning and waves.
(Rosario Murillo)
http://www.amazon.com/Volcan-Central-America-Spanish-Edition/dp/0872861538
