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Maria Elena Blanco

Biography coming soon


  • Blow Up

    The park is a blue spider web of frost.

    It guards us against invasions from the opposite shore,
    from day’s openness, from darkness.

    It is a spongy girdle round the house which reabsorbs
    our oozings: smells of bed and breakfast, noise of
    slammed doors, voices, even thoughts.

    It flies it all away in different tree branches
    from which we are stared at by all our household gods
    and a few beasts.

    Binoculars are of no use to embrace the park, much less
    to see it: they are only conveniently elliptical.

    Either the captive fly between the double windows or, father

    the night, the savage bonfires.

© Labyrinth 2008