Loveless and out of stamps...

Epistolary Divagation

Nene:
Who flew away?
Ah! The Nest fell away!
New York?
Exotic locales
exculpating beauty and lust,
fire and empty masks.

Abject poverty:
My feet, my unfeeling feet
are trying to try
treading on dirt, try
giving a hand; no matter
how many, no, no,
how many I touch,
inside me it don’t matter:
escape’s what I sought,
what I seek, what I ignore
regarding what ifs.

Anyway,
How’s life?
At times, a tingle, a touch
on my ribcage feels
like a golden bird,
floating in me, once again;
then I remember
that I’m just hollow,
like the bird that’s not in me.

I Miss You.

poem: Cues for the Disco

The Paradox of Blood & Water

For every part blood
draw two (or more) parts water.
Men of cloth, drunkards,
heedless to golden ratios,
turn liquid into
vapor, a bloodless spirit,
a faithless mirage.

Drink blood fast enough
so in the cup the rule shows;
the glass of water
will then permanently hold
twice the abundance
(or more) of crystal reason,
purity adored.

Leave water to sit,
imbibe, forget blood runs dry,
err, foolish hubris,
mistake your father’s gamble
for a vampire’s thirst;
Not even a miracle
moistens bloodied dust.

poema y sombra

Bailamos?

No me confío contigo,
Me quisiste decir.
Recordaste lo que antes
había dejado
que te dejes llevar, licor,
vapor embriagante,
convencida te querías
de tu inseguridad
etéreo espejismo espectral.

Contigo me lastimaré;
Corta tu mirada,
Quema tu perfil, silueta
taciturna, triste,
difusa y bifurcada;
tus ojos destellan
bajo implacables mordazas
que intento desatar
sin más ayuda que el amar.

Mentiré, a uno mentiré,
Casi es ya costumbre,
que enmascarada me ames;
No sé si es para que
tu o yo piense que no es quien
es bajo el antifaz.
Pretendíamos pretender
que el fuego no quema,
más había un leño demás.

poem: at the beach, I thought...

I’m Slowly Turning Into You
(petit turtle requiem)


Strung out on song,
feeling heavy
and falling off
from side to side,
the winds breaking
on my bare back;
I come upon
a turtle still,
washed up ashore
its swim now done,
I want to cry
but I’m too numb.

The birds of prey
have just begun
to do their part,
peck out the eyes,
imbibe manna;
Blind, then defunct
reptilian being,
forsaken Grace
had left thee, to
unto buzzards
anoint God’s gift:
turtle carrion.

Mother Nature’s
wise in her ways;
aching stupor,
anew vesper
devolved till morn,
I tread the sand
and find not one
but a beach full
of leather-backed
buzzard sushi,
drunk, I think of
fat birds flying.

poema: reviviendo viejos anhelos

Querida musa:

Anoche quise escribir
Lo más bello que jamás había escrito;
Quería que me acompañase
Lorca y su musicalidad,
Pero solo tenía a su luna,
Que a idilios gitanos optó escapar,
Invoqué antiguos espíritus,
Poetas, músicos y demás:
Quema su subterráneo palpitar,
En vida quienes fueran desangrados
Durante el dolor diurno de su andar:
Querer negar que ni los muertos,
Ni los faunos danzando sobre su lar,
Ante el sueño de sueños,
Quisieron querer ayudar.

Election Night Poetry

Canned Laughter

(petit republican requiem)

Redistribution
Fox News delusion
Spreading the wealth
Taxing your health
Be afraid of the one
Wright, Rong, we will still run
Vets in the background
Fights in the foreground
Pitbulls and moms
Joe Mammas and terrorist chums
One hundred fifty thousand dollar shopping spree
For the scant few real members of the land of the free
Already waitin’ to be able to shelve
Change infatuation, then resume palin’ for 2012

Canned Laughter.