Two short poems from Rufo Quintavalle


When I dream of escape, I see a path
from country to country
from woman to woman
like those lines which make stars
become ploughs or hunters;
when I dream of this route
that draws itself
it is of life’s end that I dream,
from where the path,
inexistent before,
makes beautiful,
final sense.

White on white

You don’t call it waking
when you haven’t slept;

on the desk a porcelain vase
with brittle discs of honesty.

* Rufo Quintavalle was born in London in 1978 and lives in Paris. He is the author of the chapbook, Make Nothing Happen (Oystercatcher Press, 2009), is on the editorial board of Upstairs at Duroc and is currently Acting Poetry Editor for the online magazine, nthposition.

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