Volume 20, Number 4

Homage to Antonio Machado (1875–1939)

First they threatened
them, then charged; beat
some to the ground, hounded
the runners, tore them
from the cafés, lobbies,
houses in Baeza where
they fled. Surely it is

all an error. He wrote
raindrops & lemon trees,
the cricket, stereoscope;
not of police, murder,
mayhem. Not money. Not
crowds. & yet I think

they thought best to stamp
out this loneliness,
to close the sunset &
still the unquenchable
descent of waters. Always
it is silence
that will end the artifice.

—John Jansen