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Heavy Air

Heavy air, addling,
choking us and battling
our resentment in a continental
earth-forsaken lentil-can.


Can the air impair our right
our self-given right to spite, despite
the nature we have to lovingly spin
‘round worlds of hellish blessings and heavenly sin.


Sin can kill, but so can air
heavy, heavy, harmful air,
with its weighing, staying, shaming glare,
stealing water from our share
and in its torrents
leaving us bare.


There we will learn to live
to be there, to take, to give away
the way we had today;
we learned and yearned to stay in the fray.

 


Pray the heavy air, intense!
Prepare for battle, all in tents!
The field is heavy, hot with doom
and the heavy air may kill us soon.


Presently the heavy air  throttles
all the resentment we have bottled 
inside our hearts now bleeding sweat
which in heavy air their death have met.

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Trash Can Love Story

Toppled buildings, vines creeping

Look out the window, dear self

Crying foundations, basements peeking

No longer safe on my soul’s shelf.


We aren’t the same, myself and I

Myself thirst life voraciously

I, myself prefer curling up to die.

Out wait sanity patiently


You, stained on this table

Became part of this;

This trash-can love-fable

Gargled, broken bliss.


Stone bridges won’t ignite

Alas, memories forever built
Mine’s a cold, troubled plight

Myself and I begin to wilt.

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Après

                these sheets
      curve aching shoulders-
imprinted hours, the swell of hips
  echoing ephemeral
             locksmiths

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Rejuvenation

Relax, let out stale air from collapsing lungs 
We lapse, but Ill die the day I’m hung 
Digress from laughter, stray to hate
Depressed, but after, we paint new slates
You love the death out of this graveyard heart
We strum the best on age-hard harps 
I tame lions,charcoaled red steamy dreams
You get high on star-cold freezing beams
They scream at speeds of light (and beyond)
From seams of my cornea (and the dawn)

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poema

Yo perdí algo en el agua.
Yo perdí algo linda ayer.
No podía saber que estaba pasando.
Que estaba pasando no podré comprender.

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Climbing

                                                        all               of this 
                                                             it  worth   
                                                      was                              branches
                                               down                          a few
I should                                on   my   way          hit
             have                      I  hit  the  ground and
                    stopped         Till, Snap! Crack!                            signs
                                  but   still    I    climbed          the warning  
                                          I   should    have  seen                                      view
    And                  branch you grew weaker                                    to see the 
            branch by              I  climbed higher                           or wanted
                                         branch by branch            a challenge
                   I knew            Maybe   I     can’t  resist                       so green
                               I  had to   try    climbing                       leaves
                                         Your limbs were long        your  
                                         above          me          and  
                                         towering     high 
                                         you were a tree
                                         last   night   and 
                                         I  had  a  dream 

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A Concert of Ivory

We are sitting together.
The theater is dark, but not oppressive of light.
I’m in pinned clothing, too well for my taste,
but I’m comfortable, well warm
and able to sink into the seams of my jacket,
as well as into the seams of your hand,
clasped gently like a cloth strap
around a diary of touch.

On stage, a piano sings beneath the performer,
a man who strokes the music from it.
His fingers sooth the savage beast of silence
and pulls beautifully inconsolable strains
from its heavy lungs.

The lied echoes mournfully,
but it’s as a graceful widow,
dressed crisply in sorrow’s shining vestments.

And I am him, for a time, the musician.
I am there, on stage, my face is shadowed,
but the lights ignite my black-clothed back,
and my fingers are his too,
each one pointing to a sound,
to empty its contents and saturate the room 
with liquid seasons:

Autumn lake, a breeze hair stirring.
Winter tree, no thoughts occurring. 
Spring then lost, uncertainty.
Summer hot, is not to be.

Awake!
I am sitting. 
My bones groan.
Suddenly, where have you gone?
I’m on my feet.
Each sole pounds a meter
against the poignant melody,
terribly sad - lead driven into my knees
with each step. 
The door to a storm - I throw open. 

Heavy, pounding rain.
Ignorant of the earth below it,
which never shares its pain;
for it has felt storms before.

Where are you? Are you out here?
There you are, clutching the stem of an umbrella.
It’s over your head, like Jonah’s shelter,
as he waited for Nineveh to burn. 
Do you share his damning eyes?

The water, though in the air, is a trench between our camps,
and you, you are the ghost of a fallen comrade.
I call out to you; for surely, you can’t be passed,
just yesterday you ran alongside me; you can’t be passed.
Oh.
But the rain is too loud. It’s always above my cries.
It grows louder, louder, and louder.
It flows from me and so drowns my voice.

You are a shadow. 

I am laden,
and my kin,
the hypocrite, Apollo,
disguised as placid ambition,
has turned your skin into bark,
still so beautiful from afar,
but silent
and rough to the touch.

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Zzz

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A young lady once asked me over dinner to tell her all about myself.

Roads leading no where

Rain never hitting earth

Yellow cab with no fare

A child not birthed


Bed without sheets

Eyes without color

Wrists that bleed

Fires smothered

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Down in the mouth

Bring your blandiloquence

To death

I’ll absolve spurious eloquence


My lover’s lover claims I need remedy

Maybe a psychiatrist

Shrink-wrap my head, circumvent anencephaly.


Juxtapose commiserations, cast the die

Do you love me?

Conjure your riposte, envelope tongue ties