Adenda written by Mario Bojórquez
Translated from the Spanish by Verónica González

I am the one
Who in another time
Was here
To leave proof of
His existence in this world 
But the old coolness
The shadows of these trees
And the wet darkness
That sprinkles blackness on 
Warm cobblestone
Do not know my name now 
Nor my face 
As if the one I was
Had split in two 
And I were not I but another
The one who plowed these skies
With his glass prow
The one who plowed and set sail 
To confront without eyes
	-blurred eyes-
A faint memory 
I am the one
Who finds everything new
Who knows
That everything he’s said in books
And cities
Is a vain reflection of
What endures 
Beyond time 
And the one who
Did not know about himself 
Who got lost in the abyss
In useless disputes
That refined his heart
And sharpened his tongue 
But what a poor song
For such artistry   
Of this fire! 
How far from the accent my hands are 
So cold
For your warm thighs! 
I am that same one and I say
That so many splinters on the edge 
cannot be named. 
Sawdust from filing 
On such disillusioned skin. 
And I say 
In a loud voice
From pointed towers
What cannot be said 
Not one small part 
An inaudible whisper 
From the awful mechanics
That moves everything 
And makes the chest deeper
With gravestone pressure
On the smooth catafalque 
And I keep on being myself
This one that one
A worn out ball of thread
At the bottom of the board
On top of the wax paper
The one who put together his bed
From inflexible ropes  
The one who coughed and howled
In his flesh and bones 
The same bone already
Bare and incorruptible.