top of page
Naos and the Sea
He can only look so long at the sea from his shut window.
The soundless agitation too slow to be broken glass,
too slow to find a figure or a word in all those reckless lines.
When he opens the window, it is only water out there.
That, and the sudden taste of salt from a dream.
J o s é A n g e l A r a g u z
Naos
bottom of page