print previewback RICARDO PAU-LLOSA
Coming Home
after various paintings by Julio Larraz
The fruit piles up impossibly, a balance
that is unbalanced to desire, aping a truck
of clouds shoveled by weather into bulk
like luggage rubbled on the carousel
haloed by passengers still waiting for their bags.
Light, too, has grown greedy with patience.
It lurks on the domed roof of the pale house
atop the bone and olive escarpment. It magmas
in the arena’s gut, burps in the irate cloud.
Tired of fencing the track of the temporal race,
of being the needle that minds the universe,
it warms the nested sigh of the thickening mound.
Comforting that light is also languor driven.
Though waking with us, it denies we’re kin. 
Coming Home
Syncretism