E-ISSN 2457-0265

Vol. 5 Issue 2

Lorraine Caputo



People are moving around me


            in my full-moon dreams 

I stop                I ask

            Who are you

                        What are you doing?



            & aural



except the fleeing

            the slipping away

                        of some one


her earthen skirts swirling …








On an upper balcony I sit,

chilled by the sunset wind,

trying to order my thoughts

            my pen ensnared by work words

trying to force an opening

for these poems ….


The disappearing sun

turns a cloud magenta –

a cloud like Alaska,

another like Isabela Island

            & they evaporate,

            no wisp of their shape

The sky pales, the dusk

colorless, eastern clouds thick,

a deeper grey.


Ordering my thoughts upon this page,

trickling through the crack

I wedge open, shoulder, foot

forceful like an iron bar

            I must …

not wanting to leave,

not to let it snap

close, I must not …

            but those other words …







The afternoon sun

bathes the pale walls of my room.

Window panes rattle.


I lie across my

bed, embraced by the warmth. On

edge of consciousness

I drift, feeling the tremblings

of Pachamama & her


gentle, playful tugs

upon the silver cord of

my solar plexus.





This Desert Road


With each kilometer

I abandon


a verdant valley

carpeted with

onion, corn, alfalfa,

embroidered with

vineyards & orchards


workers in the fields,

cows grazing in pastures,


adobe homes

the color of

barren buttes

on the far side

of a thin river


̶            ̶            ̶


Along the side

of this desert road

a trio of metal crosses

shed like the lizards

that scurry across

the hot sands


shedding to a newer,

older self, until

nothing is left

but their

forgotten deaths


̶            ̶            ̶


Signs on this Desert Road:


            Ever forward

                        on the left


            Drive defensively


            … Trust in the Signs …


̶            ̶            ̶


On the slope

of a dune

some hand has written

in white stones:



            I love you





Clearing Mists


Beneath the full moon

gleaming upon barren snows

& mountains, I dream


clear, celestial lights washing

away garúa

mists clouding my memories.


About the Poet

Lorraine Caputo is a documentary poet, translator and travel writer. Her works appear in over 250 journals on six continents, such as Prairie Schooner (US), Revista Máquina Combinatoria (Ecuador), Fragmented Voices (UK-Czech Republic), Open Road Review (India), Cordite Poetry Review (Australia) and The Praxis (Nigeria); and 14 chapbooks of poetry – including Caribbean Nights (Red Bird Chapbooks, 2014), Notes from the Patagonia (dancing girl press, 2017) and On Galápagos Shores (dancing girl press, 2019). She also pens travel pieces, with narratives appearing in the anthologies Drive: Women's True Stories from the Open Road (Seal Press, 2002) and Far Flung and Foreign (Lowestoft Chronicle Press, 2012), and travel articles and guidebooks. In March 2011, the Parliamentary Poet Laureate of Canada honored her verse. She has done over 200 literary readings, from Alaska to the Patagonia. Ms Caputo journeys through Latin America, listening to the voices of the pueblos and Earth. Her travels may be followed at Latin America Wanderer: and

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