Copyright © 2013 Pirene's Fountain.


All Rights Reserved.

Mark J. Mitchell studied writing at UC Santa Cruz under Raymond Carver, George Hitchcock and Barbara Hull. His work has appeared in various periodicals over the last thirty five years, as well as the anthologies Good Poems, American Places, Hunger Enough, Retail Woes and Line Drives. His chapbook, Three Visitors has recently been published by Negative Capability Press. Artifacts and Relics, another chapbook, is forthcoming from Folded Word and his novel, Knight Prisoner, was recently published by Vagabondage Press.. He lives in San Francisco with his wife, the documentarian and filmmaker Joan Juster.

Four Limitations of the Medieval Spanish | Seascape


Four Limitations of the Medieval Spanish


That night they killed him,
That horseman,
The showpiece of Medina
The flower of Olmedo.

Shadows gave warnings
Not to depart
And forearmed him
So he wouldn't start
That horseman
The showpiece of Olmedo
The flower of Medina


Come at dawn, beautiful friend,
Come at dawn

Friend who I desire most,
Come at the light of dawn.

Friend who I love most,
Come at the light of dawn

Come at the light of day,
Don't bring anyone along

Come at the light of dawn,
Bring no great ones along.


So I, my mother, I
The flower of the town,
That was me.

I went, my mother,
To sell bread in town
And everyone said
"What a pretty bread-seller."

The pretty one was me, I,
The flower of the town,
It was me, me!


The Moorish girl crying
In the olive grove
Makes the branches tremble.

The girl with the pretty skin,
The Moorish girl with the pretty skin
Wept for her dead lover
In the olive grove
Making the branches tremble.



Fog hovers off the west.
The bridge is a red ghost.

A low sun might confess
to you if you don’t close

your eyes. It’s a light test
composed of thought and pain.

Each bead of fog is white
Against blue. It’s not quite

evening. Chill. A neap tide
is sliding east to regain

the bay. Nothing will stay
when a moon steals your sight.