Author Archives: Jorge Luis Borges


The skull, the secret heart’s fuse, the pathways of blood I cannot see, the tunnels of dreams, with a Muse, the viscera, the nape, the bony me. I am these things. Yet remarkably I am also the memory of a … Continue reading

Posted in David Scanlon (Translations), Jorge Luis Borges, Poetry, Translation, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment