A poem by Miguel Cullen
The lamps cast amoebic, ultrasound complexions
On the grey, when the bulbs filled with night rain
The bus blew a long line of inflation along the tarpaulin.
I’m so tense I lie embalmed in Perspex,
Funnel-lip, stark-tongue sex doll
I go back to the waves’ cross-hatch
Acres of verdigris before the dunes start
You are there, you’re the motion of all the brambled
Random exhalations from the core, that the sea contains:
DUENDE, stained on each leaf, on each element implicate
In land and the sea. I only see within my scope
My friends say. I say that you are everywhere, anyway.