intercepted chips

tr Herrera y Reissig: Ojos Grises

Unknown sullen regions
of crags & mountain peaks
creep into the disks
of your two Lappland eyes.

Boreal night... storm presage...
Kremlin of nacre... Sheepfold
of surly bears that roar
against all constellations...

Sweet Cleo, don't cry!
Love will command our sledge
for unending fancies

And we will begin our trek
to the gray, infirm, nebulous
realms in your eyes of spleen.

"Through technology, the image no longer stayed in the domain of ‘art’, but rather moved into the domain of ‘politics’."