Los intelectuales son rebeldes, pero no revolucionarios.
Black stone on white stone, a Thursday with rain falling.
The poet dying of a broken heart he took on in Spain:
Lorca, Hernandez dead, Machado across the Pyrenees.
After his Russia, Vallejo home in Paris, returning
in time, the two beloved on either side of his deathbed.
(5 September 2013)
copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander