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  • The Scents Only the Heart Can Follow
  • Art Coelho (bio)

There are scents now thatonly the heart can follow:something has stolen the gracefrom the sea—yes it's truehands were tied behind visions;and wrenched waves feltthe distance of no births,no fragrance for the future.

Oh how ancient basalt archwaysache for songs and the banana treesthat Grandpa Francisco planted;when simplicity loses its threshold . . .what you have is stones without secrets,miracles without bread or children laughing;the mold of shipwrecks hauntsand within the cry of longingwe all become strangers to our mother's eyes.

No search in a foreign harborwill seed the mist of whales blowing, [End Page 60] the crashing of our hungry bloodfor a truth spoken only to us.Why can't we realize thatdeath is too sudden without dreams?

The yam fields can give us morethan the holds of sailing ships,an old village voice abundantwith fisherman hands and salty nets,and spoken warm words at an island baythat charms the soul through memory.

Forget the dagger of immigration,cast off the new things that robthe old wonder of Azorean sounds,the magic echo in the cobblestonesof Santa Luzia—refuse the temptationof this American fable with unproved deedsfor the music of the burro-back dairyman thathis milk cans bring with their cool silver ring.

Art Coelho

Art Coelho grew up on two family farms in Central California. His grandparents were from the Azores: São Jorge, Terceira, and Pico Islands. He is a novelist, a short story writer, a painter, and the founder of the rural and working class press, Seven Buffaloes Press. He danced in the Crow Sun Dance in 1971 at Pierce Siding, Montana.

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