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“It seems to me that everything in the light and air ought to be happy; / Whoever is not in his coffin and the dark grave, let him know he has enough.”
― Walt Whitman

“Well, on the day I was born God was sick, gravely.”
― Cesar Vallejo

“Black Stone on a White Stone"

I will die in Paris with a rainstorm,
on a day I already remember,
I will die in Paris—and I don't shy away—
perhaps on a Thursday, as today is, in autumn.

It will be Thursday, because today, Thursday, as I prose
these lines, I've put on my humeri in a bad mood,
and, today like never before, I've turned back,
with all of my road, to see myself alone.

César Vallejo has died; they kept hitting him,
everyone, even though he does nothing to them,
they gave it to him hard with a club and hard

also with a rope; witnesses are
the Thursday days and the humerus bones,
the solitude, the rain, the roads. . .”
― César Vallejo, The Complete Poetry

“Americans so dearly love to be fooled. —Charles Baudelaire”
― Jeffrey Ford, Ahab's Return, or, The Last Voyage