March 2015

You know how it is there early in the morning in Havana with the bums still asleep against the walls of the buildings, before even the ice wagons come by with ice for the bars? Well, we came across the square from the dock to the Pearl of San Francisco Cafe to get coffee and there was only one beggar awake in the square and he was getting a drink out of the fountain. But when we got inside the cafe and sat down, there were the three of them waiting for us.

We sat down and one of them came over.
‘Well?’ he said.


All day I hear the noise of waters
Making moan,
Sad as the sea-bird is when, going
Forth alone,
He hears the winds cry to the water’s

The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing
Where I go.
I hear the noise of many waters
Far below.
All day, all night, I hear them flowing
To and fro.

One Sunday morning,
instead of studying The Illiad,
I escaped with Bino to Florence,
to see what miracles the aviator Manissero
would perform. (more…)

“La vida baja como un ancho rio” ANTONIO MACHADO

Yo soy un río, voy bajando por las piedras anchas,
voy bajando por las rocas duras,
por el sendero dibujado por el viento.
Hay árboles a mi alrededor
sombreados por la lluvia. (more…)

I am Raftery the poet, full of hope and love; with eyes without light,

with gentleness without misery.

Going west on my journey with the light of my heart; weak and tired to the end of my road.

I am now, and my back to a wall, playing music to empty pockets.