Malick’s New
World history
cannot hold
its fragrance
of love, the land
even in extremity,
hardship, they belonged
to, communion,
their voices, memory,
of the forest
of the air
of the weeping birds
of the river’s stillness


bark walls bullrush mats
and the living place: open sky


Urubamba flow below Vilcapampa
city of stairways in the clouds

The way Castillo’s quill trembled
before the undreamed
that was already dreamed

ancient memory

Gandharva realm, keyed
stone carved, angled
vicuña rug, their love
for sun
terrace tillage
harmony of water-
lightness tied
to intihuatana
mirror of bronze

Sun’s reflection, echo
of Tiahuanaco

ruins Mayta Capac studied
Pachacutec curved walls

ashlar room window heights
milder than Cusco
hidden by mountains
mist home temple

hidden from conquest

when the merciful conquerors
became the conquered

And the place abandoned imagination


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