poetry

him in march

(For M, on his thirty-first year)

he is framed

against the window

sunkissed, looking over

coconut trees

and rose bushes

behind him

the wind a lullaby

amidst the homely

barking of dogs

and trilling of chicks

the man, scribbled

on pages and dreamed

of in early afternoon naps

full voice, full body

more than a mirage

naturally the sky

looks otherworldly

where he is

i live in the room

where we first danced

with the melodic whistles

and tambourine taps

of his feet, like a heart

beating―now, now, now

because in march

he was born in the

womb of something

beatific, his laughter

ricocheting through

my unsteady chest

and keeps me

breathing

despite time

pointing its metal

muzzle at us, still we

celebrate and laugh

and dream of

the future

every so often

when i'm with him―

i am where i need to be.

---

(for mama and papa)

they've cleared out the house

took out the nails and paint

sold the guitars and toilet bowls

closed the windows and left

the beds cold and empty

in the kitchen the plates

are clean, the fridge bare

no food for her to complain

about: the pork too salty

the vegetables too bland

the TV is silent in the

living room, he

no longer sleeps there

with his favorite show on

head subtly nodding off

perhaps dreaming of horses

and fighting cocks, maybe

even partying at the disco

legs no longer wobbly

mouth full of teeth

feet that only hurt

from dancing so much

i found her too, asleep

curled to the side

an arm cradling her head

a Bible always near

eyelids pinched together

probably in the middle

of praying for her children

"im glad you're here" she told

me once, her hand warm like

her smile, eyes bright, a twinkle

in her universe of dying stars

i remember them like this:

in quiet and lazy afternoons

laughing teethless mouths

and warm magnolia skin

prayers and deadpan jokes

ice cream and tangy fish stew

never mind that they

would never come back to

this house

they have taken its soul

with them anyway

3/27/2020

---

I remember the pork chops

I stole from your plate

The taste of the sea in mornings

----

i've picked out your smile

amid a swarm of faces
the twinkle in a starless sky

----


the sea has flavored you saline
colored you like autumn
given you the stars to read
as you sleep


the breeze kisses your cheeks
and your feet taste the sand
a delicacy of fading footprints
lovers, children, men, women
laughing, lonely souls


melancholy
melancholy
the waves singing in the dark
or is it just the dying cry
of your heart


- - - - -



the clouds are heavy
with the sorrows of men
and God, hearing the clouds
sigh with their burden,
let it rain

and so the rain
told stories to
my roof, and i heard
the roof embrace
the water in its
corroding iron flesh
letting it fall with
a moist thud to the

earth

----


my bed is beside a window
that opens to a
thirty-foot fall
sometimes i carress
the lock when i sleep
thinking i should
leave it open for the night
and maybe in the middle
of my dreams
i can roll a little farther
farther to the edge
until my skin tastes
the cold glass
until my hair can soak
the breath of dawn
then i will fly
fly until gravity
clips my wings
and closes my eyes
forever

Street 

It's raining.

Better take your clothes off

and step onto the pavement.

The moon's smile is waning,

so we will have to make do with the stars.

(03/18/2014)

------

I Bet You Didn't Know 

I bet you didn't know

that I like flowers

and the noise of markets

or that I like to eat fish

with my hands

 I bet you didn't know either

that I like to listen

to Icelandic music

and pretend I'm a mermaid

or that my favorite day

is Thursday

(09/21/2012)
----

Paper Birds

my hands are shaking

as my heart stumbles and

dies in my chest

for a second I hear

a strange note

in the wind

and it grows

it grows

louder

into a hum

so I fly

from this stretch

of urban traffic into

a room full of paper birds

where I have written

all the words

I want to say

to you

(11/18/2012)

---

---

Fuck

I like how fuck sounds

how the word first slithers

between your lips

as your teeth sink gently

into the soft bed

of crimson ridges

your vocal tract opening

ever so slightly

to welcome the breath

of an incomplete vowel

before being abruptly

suffocated

by the ruddiness

of a final consonant

(10/18/2012)

---

red ruM

(A Palindrome)

Love
murdered you,
brutally piercing
knives flying hungry
against crimson stained skin
broken memories and smile
how sweet is death?

death is sweet how?
smile and memories broken
skin stained crimson against
hungry flying knives
piercing brutally,
you murdered
Love

(05/10/10)

Midnight Thoughts at 9 AM

the trees shriek

in pain as they beg

for the light

of the morning,

hiding beneath

the shadows of the

dawn

tired and silent

----

I can almost see you

on the other side

of the glass door.

Your smile is

a lifetime away

---

I am in Belgium

smoking a joint

with Alice's caterpillar,

following the path

illuminated by Cheshire Cat's

smile.

---

Just one minute.

I want just one minute to be yours.

---

My toothbrush has become yellow today,

and my toothpaste tastes pricklier than it usually does.

The water I drank tasted like the vodka from last night,

then I remember I forgot to kiss you.

---

I waited for you

with music in my head

until we grew old together,

the music and I.

---

there is a color

beyond blue

where black

hasn't touched yet

and it moves desperately

toward the axis

of undiscovered things

---

There are times

when I get so angry

that even I scare myself.

---

today I just

want to stay home and

indulge the part of me

that has been screaming

whole week

---

Sometimes I hear my tears

in songs and in the rain.

---

I am half-deaf

from blowing my nose

all week.

Sometimes when it's quiet

I hear the ocean

with the heavy strum

of a depressed cello.

(10/18/2012)