Wind Vane

March 1, 2018 in Poetry by jgburke

Wind Vane
Southern Wind,
dark, burning,
you arrive over my flesh,
bringing me seeds
of brilliant
looks, soggy
with orange blossoms.
You make the moon red
and sob
the captive poplars, but you come
so late!
I have already rolled up the night from my story
on the shelf!
Without any wind,
listen to me!
turn, heart;
turn, heart.
Northern Air,
white bear of wind!
you arrive over my flesh
trembling with the aurora
borealis,
with your cap of spectral
captains,
and screaming of laughter
at Dante.
Oh polisher of stars!
But you come
so late.
My armoire is mossy
and I have lost the key.
Without any wind,
listen to me!
turn, heart;
turn, heart.
Breezes, gnomes, and winds
from nowhere.
Mosquitoes of the rose
with pyramid petals.
Weaned trade
between the rough trees,
flutes of the storm,
leave me be!
It has strong hips
my memory,
and it is captive, the bird
which draws with trills
the afternoon.
That which goes never returns,
everyone knows this,
and in the clear crowd of the winds,
it is useless to complain.
Right, poplar, teacher of the breeze?
It is useless to complain!
Without any wind,
listen to me!
turn, heart;
turn, heart.

 

 


 Joel G. Burke

“Joel G. Burke is a Mexican-American third-year Literature/Writing student at the University of
California, San Diego. He began working with Alchemy during the Fall 2017 quarter and
quickly grew fond of everything about the journal. He began his writing career in high
school creating pieces of short fiction and poetry and has developed much upon his
writing since then because of the various courses and mentors which have helped him
to improve and prepared him for working with Alchemy. In his free time, he mostly
enjoys playing, listening to, and writing music; but also spends time with his friends,
brother, and fiancée when he can do so.”

Federico García Lorca

Federico García Lorca is one of the most important Spanish poets and dramatists of the twentieth century. He was born June 5, 1898, in Fuente Vaqueros, a small town a few miles from Granada. His father, Federico García Rodríguez, was a landowner, and his mother, Vicenta Lorca Romero, was a teacher.

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