Face in the brick work
two hundred years ago
the man who passed away whose face lay against
The hard granite
In the hush under those big royal poincianas
falling apart and held together by bromeliads epiphites
Old kite string and hanging succlents
Also the matted mess of abadoned nests
The face stares out of those shadows
The Paraty phantom of all things
It's soul a piece of the landscape
forever observing the strange human activity
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