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| PEDRO TREVINO-RAMIREZ | |
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I am the Scarecrow under Harvest Moon The moon, dried blood shade, rested, juxtaposed slightly above the fields that draw my body as a silhouette scarecrow against October harvest terrain: the sky a concave looking glass, bending as never meant by god, creates for me a vantage point to view birth, death; the moon ascends. Orange hues dissipate, drain into fog, smooth out until equilibrium loses track of their dye. I find what is left of the Harvest Moon expressed in tints, tones on my lover’s sleeping face; this I catch from my field perch; my scarecrow tissue is paper; white moon glides the concave until it sinks, colors left behind wash away by morning dew. |
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© 2003 Pedro Trevino-Ramirez. All rights reserved. |
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