GLOVES
—from Rattle #28, Winter 2007
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José Angel Araguz: “I grew up basically not knowing much about my father; he was in prison early on in my life and died when I was six. I find this sense of absence often projected in my work in terms of having to fill in the blanks. In regards to the poem, ‘Gloves,’ I was working in Manhattan at the time, where, during winter, the subway platforms and cars are often littered with forgotten or dropped gloves. The thought that somewhere someone walked around with a bare hand is what got me going.” (web)