AL-ANDALUS
 
I go far         inland
away from the coast 
of gulls       a trail
 
the wolf dare to follow
the calligraphy          in the stone 
shaped          like dried 
      curving rivers
 
                an echo of some 
voice                           I trace back 
                                           to the beginning
 
           before the first word
 
like a poet reaching 
      for the stars
 
                  by midnight
    the throat:            a desert
 
washed 
    with wine
 

THE GOSPEL OF NO ONE
 
Read closer: a man hikes back and forth
his path ends where he begins over
again he whispers to himself
another psalm made of ash:
“More bombs have fallen this year
more fire
more casualties
the harvest is only a memory now“
the man hopes for a miracle, searches
the earth he believes his god
and the grain are both out there somewhere
but the days just come and go
like cigarette smoke
and the wound, yes!
His wound shaped
as the moon is enough
to enter

Simon Anton Diego Baena is a poet. His work has appeared in The Cortland Review,Fifth Wednesday, The Bitter Oleander, Cider Press Review, Catamaran Literary Reader, Osiris, Santa Ana River Review, Chiron Review, and elsewhere.