I stroll from street to street,
the trees spill themselves on the asphalt road.
Sooner or later the leaves
will end up swept away from the sidewalk.
Let’s call their disappearance wind.
Let’s go on giving names to all
we’ve lost in the name of words.
—Rosa Alice Branco, from Cattle of the Lord (translated by Alexis Levitin)
I’ve been reading The Architecture of Language, by Quincy Troupe, and I have been fascinated by how rhythm and syntax interact in the way he builds his lines. Structurally, the poems remind me of nothing so much as jazz...