Solar Moments

Homero Aridjis



No artist can cover

that white Wall with color

at three in the afternoon

like Maestro sun




Isn’t it odd, even when a cloud

blocks out the Sun at 3 in the afternoon

the glow of your eyes in mine

is more intense than mango skin?


Isn’t it odd that the god

of everyday occurrences

should have painted the fields

mauve, yellow and white?


Isn’t it odd that even blocked out

the Sun in a fever of love

paints your long white hair



3 Vermeer


This feeling of eternity

in bodies and things


This nameless longing

in the moment outside in time

that melancholy

in the eye’s memory




Whenever she saw a bench empty, she didn’t

take it as a given or not taken, she’d say:

“That’s where the sun sits”


5 Not me


Not me, he who raised

the Pyramid of the Sun

Not me, who turned

a beam of light into a body


Not me, that bleary eye

on the Causeway of the Dead.




Aridjis, Homero. “Solar Moments.” Poemas solares: Solar Poems. Trans. George McWhirter. San Francisco: City Lights Books, 2010. pp. 43-47.

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