Amílcar Sanatan

Calypso from a Cemetery Slum

Idle skulls heap in the corner of tombs, I scrub the art, sometimes paint sky blue, Tuscan sunset, fuchsia to give a kind of simple praise. In the periphery of Urbanisation’s philosophy, children dream kingdoms of fine passages, repeated hammock …

Posted in 97 & 98: PROPAGANDA | Tagged

Dry Cry

Old men in open shirts and give-away caps sit royally on the staircase of the community parlour. Their teeth grind like their knees in the picong, empty quarrels about cricket and young boys on the port smuggling drugs in the …

Posted in 92: NO THEME VIII | Tagged