FORMAS FINALES The steam train headed west from Atotonilco had departed long ago. The one my father sometimes jumped on as it slowed on a hill. Tired child. The path lacking modern guides, lacking guardrail and colonial arch. Electricity was holy. Was softer. Was circuits of moonlight. And the mothers’ gold-embroidered hemlines hovered closer when … Continue reading Gustavo Hernandez: Four Poems