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Francesca Castaño



Sometimes I see the clouds 


leaking blood like a cold


moon over a forest


at nightfall; the branches


of the trees are like 


useless weapons stretched


over solitary heads;


so intoxicated by the ineffable 


hostility of triumphant centuries


failing to remember the dishonour


of history and its dispersed tombs.










Windy words slip out 


of the mouth unravelling


the mystery of blurred visions


mingling like dancing snakes in a basket.


The rhythm of reality,


always faster than insomnia-


a feverish state in the long


dark twilight bringing back 


memories with magisterial clarity


while deleting some other


important tiny shifts


too quickly frozen in the mind.


Strange dreams come later,


wide eyes looking through a window


into a hypnotic silhouette that waits


on the corner of a narrow street.



Alone, tonight


after so many


singular things


occurred to me,


I listen to a touch


of foolishness


in my breast


chuckling laugh


in selfish abstraction


embraced in a satin robe


predestined to be ragged


by the impulse of time


and the darkness


of the road ahead


full of dilemmas


and further disturbances;


all is a dream, they say-


even the persistent running


of breath through the lungs-


a natural, primitive system


to edge the blackness


of expectant thoughts


asleep on a pillow


ready to go on to the next 


impalpable blossom.

Francesca Castaño lives and works in Barcelona. She is a Spaniard who writes in 


English. Her Master’s thesis was published by the University of Barcelona, in February 


2010. Her poems have appeared in; Ygdrasil, A Journal of the Poetic Arts: Selected 


Poems by Francesca Castaño, Unshod Quills, The Foliate Oak Literary Magazine, Shot 


Glass Journal, Thefirstcut, The Foliate Oak Literary Journal, Decades Review, The 


Stolen Poem, Mad Swirl, The Odd Magazine, Pirene's Fountain and others.

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