Copihue Poetry

every era has a rising star
path wobbling with the only aim
of sliding into the shadow
of the spotlight’s fire

they make books
only so the page will turn
my hand in the fire they know
the doorstep of just one volcano

am I here
to expire at the feet of lines
to reinforce the rust
are poets around to answer prayers
to heed the textual appeals
rainbows dip towards the river
surging from the knife truth reddens the vein
but to a poetry high on wrath
no season can learn the way