Monthly Archives: February 2012


I touched his leaves and felt
time shiver in its shell.
If only I could have told him
about his beauty and how
the peak of his voice
makes my heart itch giddy.
That guns don’t heal wounds
or end rainstorms
stopping thunder in its tracks
they seal fates
and untie flesh from bone.

I wanted to tell I was sorry
that he sat in the back of
the class carving his story
so deep into his palms
I could hear his skin tear
and bleed bold magenta.

I meant to tell him that I’d
goten the same tattoo
“Invisible never once Invincible”
ink glazed over my sleeping
And that rivers cry as much
as skies do.

I wanted to say that I still
remember him
using each crayon in
the box to color
himself in loveable.
and how he knocked down
the doors in which he’d
hidden himself.

I wish I could have told
he that he was my hero
and that I found his number
twice and
still couldn’t bring myself
to call
because I’ve never worn
his cape,
the albatross dangling
down his back.

If only I’d told him he had
a friend the many times
his soul was broken and
pinned to his locker.
I wanted to say I know
about his peacock-blue bruises
and that he sheds joy
like last year’s skin.

I heard his lunch money
dance sambas in the
pockets of his demin jacket,
I heard the slight drag of
his left shoe from
that one time
he “fell”.
I heard them part
and wag their tongues
at him.
He was here
It was him.
His fingers dug
into his jeans


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The world is kind to even us,
birds with clipped wings,
And though it doesn’t always see the truth in our
elongated souls
it sometimes catches glimses of the dreams in our eyes
and loves us just the same.

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I should have fallen in love with music,
though it could never hold me
so close that our bodies merge
or kiss me,
but it could love me.
and my undecisive soul.
It could love me and my weather
and celebrate each time I turn a radio on or belt out a note
mid-day mid-traffic admist all life.
At least it would not forget me,
least not easily.
Because even in the oddest songs
I hear my very name in murmurs and mumbles.
But no, I fell in love with an  apple,
a mist, a breeze,
a simple man taking up all compartments of my heart.
I fell in love with one who knows only
goodbyes and sorries
and “I won’t be home early dear”.
I fell in love with empty dinner plates,
laundry bins filled
and constantly trying to be more than the walls would let me.
I fell in love with examining the soles of his shoes
wondering if I could smell fire on them,
what remains of the woman with a house on a burning hill
where the sun meets fate and her bosom meets his hand.
where they share each other.
where they attempt to erase me
from behind the doors of their eyes.
I am no man’s indigo lover,
no man’s maybe or possibly or perhaps,
no man’s mat laying waiting from him
to put his weight on me
and rub the reminders of lustful nights into my fabric.
I am not ! I am never!
Where shall he rest his four-leaf-clover covered heart
when the air of a broken woman in me blows it away?
will he recognize me if I adorn myself in lavender,
wear coats of blue and call myself a flower?
Will he still know me like his heart knows beats
when I too fade into the crowd
with what little glitter and sunshine I have painted on my edges?
Will ‘Goodbye’ taste bitter on my lips and sugar lumps tumble down my cheeks?
I should have fallen in love with music instead, it would have done
my soul justice.


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Auburn eyes, like two fading suns
silky ebony silhoutte
Home is bar tops and backseats
pitch-black alleys of back streets
all the backdrop of one girl’s dreams.
Runaway kid with no one to keep her
so when broken promises could
no longer feed her
she took to this,
by-the-hour-in-the-corner kinda love
by-the- moment- no-numbers-no-names-
kinda love
Was she a sell-out for selling her body out?

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“Carnal Apple, Woman Filled, Burning Moon,” By Pablo Neruda

Carnal apple Woman filled, Burning moon,
dark smell of seaweed, crush of mud and light,
what secret knowledge is clasped between your pillars?
What primal night does Man touch with his senses?
Ay, Love is a journey through waters and stars,
through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain:
Love is a war of lightning,
and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness.
Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity,
your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages,
and a genital fire, transformed by delight,
slips through the narrow channels of blood
to precipitate a nocturnal carnation,
to be, and be nothing but light in the dark.

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Your coffee-stained lips against mine,
Good morning.
the sun has set and risen
and set again
to rise once more
but still the flames roaring
in your eyes didn’t die out.
There are no firebreaks
no boundaries
no shields
I too am set ablaze
ignited and delighted
good morning.

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If only I could walk right under your
caramel complexion
and venture for your heart.
Then I would knit our souls together.
I wish I could tiptoe in and settle
in the cage of your chest
that I too may be a bird of a kind
and sing.
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La Noche

La noche.
La noche.
no, dreams aren’t for the satisfied-
those in love with the real.
those not clinging to the paraphernalia of time,
we believe not in the stillness of thought
but in the beauty of action,
holding, embracing moments
as they come not when it
is their time to leave,
to waltz out into memory
into the subconscious.
Never digging through
the rubble of the past
looking for surviving trinkets of time

La noche
La noche
A sky bejeweled
and under it motion .
Yes locomotive nights
moments fast coming,
fast fading,
you are at fault not enjoy it
not to dance when music plays loud
a lion in your ear
you have howled
yourself into a pit
dug by your own hands,
where you waste time
wishing on fairy dust,
hoping to redo, undo, replay
and alter
so you can get a second chance
But time does not favor.
my friend,
Time does not pick sides.
Rise and kiss the real,
love the image not its reflection
embrace the now
and not its shadow.

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..La Soledad..

Nothing but paper-thin loneliness
and salty tears
nothing but loud music
as I make a home of the corner.
be brave, and I can't hear my
heart yell at me,
from wherever it ended up
shelled in a helium balloon
nothing but sighs
and sore fingers
from writing letters on the
Beware of the dust,
paint chippings,
forests of cobwebs,
and the boxes of leftover Chinese
Beware of the thick emptiness.
Nothing but rain hitting the same
spot twice
flooding young plants in
old pots
aligned on my balcony starring
out at the city
watching it rise and set.
Nothing but a singing telephone
replaying its favor song
ring ring ring
Nothing but the silver-grey
coiling itself
then foraging through
the abandoned counter top
of my kitchen island.
Meowing from behind the door
at the persistent
whos making envelope hills
at the foot of my locked
Nothing but heavy eyelids
unmade beds,pillow-deprived
nothing but absence and melted
feeling emotion without consent.
Picking at sin and nail-biting.
Nothing but bills and bruises
and self-destruction
under one more dark sky.
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Alone By Maya Angelou

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires
With money they can't use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They've got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I'll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
'Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
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