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Advice to Young Poets
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City of Glass
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calle San Sebastian
Federico's Ghost
General Pinochet
Heart of Hunger
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Face on the Envelope
The Poet's Coat
The Republic of Poetry
Sing Zapatista
Bonfire
Tiburón
Who Burns
My Bones
You Got a Song, Man
 

 

General Pinochet at the Bookstore

                        Santiago, Chile, July 2004

 

The general's limo parked at the corner of San Diego street
and his bodyguards escorted him to the bookstore
called La Oportunidad, so he could browse
for rare works of history.
 
There were no bloody fingerprints left on the pages.
No books turned to ash at his touch.
He did not track the soil of mass graves on his shoes,
nor did his eyes glow red with a demon's heat.
 
Worse: His hands were scrubbed, and his eyes were blue,
and the dementia that raged in his head like a demon,
making the general's trial impossible, had disappeared.
 
Desaparecido: like thousands dead but not dead,
as the crowd reminded the general,
gathered outside the bookstore to jeer
when he scurried away with his bodyguards,
so much smaller in person.
 
  

from The Republic of Poetry

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