From the Fishouse

Poor Cervantes?

in the original Spanish

If his skin comes off in the attempt,
if he fights their limits,
if he falls and gets up,
if time sucks him out
but he resists there,
once and again
pointing at the dark
with light that illuminates only
words, it doesn’t bother me.

No more than you or I
with our new day,
that portion of come, or maybe,
full of living stamens
and crossed skies
looking, to see, which way.