Saturday 29 January 2011

Burrow

Between the rustling, turning oak leaves
In your fingers from the spine
with each and every page we see
This heart of yours for mine
Dripping from the rusty pipes
That drained the old Red Sea
And the tender shepherd heart that
sang to David on his knees
Open fields and pastures wild
This starry-eyed, driven drummer child,
Asks if one day we can walk the stars,
Your hand pressed into mine.

Underground the waters ring
With a silver clarion call
While the clouds put on their airs and
Dance, twirling a whooshing sound
The trees like the jazz the rustle
snaps and join the autumn's dance
The sidewalk on the street pulses
with beat of sunshine warming down
inside with the constancy of tides,
in, out, wash over me
in the subway spaces that I breathe
indwell this deeply burrowed heart
Like a mole in his hill
Fill the yard with soil
that the flowers would grow
And pluck us from our pride
Teach us to let things go

Like the trees give out their clothes
To dress the earth for snow
Or the blackberry vines set up their stands
At every highway's bend
Teach us to be humble,
Like our beloved friend the mole
Living closely with the dirt and grass
In this awe-filled world of yours.

Wednesday 19 January 2011

Short Poems

Flakes (Somebody told me a Russian author called snow God's dandruff)

Drowsy divine dandruff drops--
Does God scratch his head?
Or is this a shake of your mane, waking up?


News Bulletin

Be on the alert for white people
They have a tendency to move to the suburbs,
Steal whatever land they can get their hands on,
And then feel like saints about it.

Mirror

What does a drug dealer look like?
Barbers, grocery cashiers, school teachers,
Mothers, children.


2nd Degree Murder

The demon must be electric-chair-exorcised;
I know him, he's a nice guy;
Dear murderer no, Dear friend,


Chinese Waterfall Hanging

A streambed of scattered html
India Ink calligraphy willow whispers
Inkitize, digitize, advertise, literatures of longing.

Tuesday 11 January 2011

Las Traes

Sonrisa sonrise
Hijo "las traes"
Waking up expecting
Corriendo tras el día
Sandpiper-scuffed mud pies
Blurred grey-red skies
Remolinea, baila con horizontes
Aquí en la arena, presente
Laugh,
Things don't last
Corre,
Siempre hay más,
Pupils wide to the fires
Escucha el chasquido y
el mundo de gris revienta, abriendo
Its soul in the splatter-paint sky
The sea is frying, bubbling gold-brown,
Papas, huevos, bacon,
Pum Pop Sizzle Plop
Los sonidos que hace el mundo en
el nacimiento, la mañana,
La otra vez, ¡bailamos! to blue parade
Cracking open another egg day,
Sonrisa side up, hey oye,
Las traes.

Thursday 6 January 2011

Yesterday (Or maybe it was a couple days prior)

Yesterday I let myself fall in love--
Well that was dumb,
I know you wouldn't give me a second thought,
that I am only another extraordinary face in a long line
of smiling ones, wowed by your radiance
I wish I could just tell you
So you could shoot me down.
You were dancing on the sand,
You fell through my hands onto your back, oops
We were harmonizing different songs
but I wasn't the one you asked to keep you company
when you went to do the dishes
I just want to know

If I write you out of my knotted head and
onto this screen does it make it better or
worse I want to forget how strongly
I feel
If I leave enough hints behind the
scenes if I tell enough friends
will someone spill the beans
And then at least we can be together
in the space where you chide me
for my foolishness and I apologize
and we wipe up food on the floor.

Saturday 1 January 2011

Marinero

Después de Mar Adentro

"Marinero ya se fue..."
El humo remolinea tranquilo
el momento después:
Una Rosa, la espina que rompe
un globo de cumpleaños,
La ayuda, el ahogar dentro del mar,
Flota callado, trauma al cuello,
¿Quién eres, ¿Salvador?
Lo que es nacido de la carne,
Rosa, multifoliado,
florecerá,
llena de gracia,
hojas bonitas--
Amor sin sexo,
Sin posibilidad,
Amor sin duda, Amor,
¿de verdad? (O sólo de Verbo,
solo de nombre.)
La ley pertenece a lo espiritual.
L-s cortes y los golpes en la mente.
La caja en medio de la sien,
La pájara esperanza, esperando
En el respiro contra la vela.
Padre, el espíritu pongo en el vacio




Oye Marinero, tan lejos de aquí,
entre estrellas,
¿Adónde va Eärendil?
¿Cuánto tiempo entre el cerrar y abrir
de ojos?
Guiando los esclavos
en el estribillo sobre las olas,
Mi vida en infierno,
El libro dice.
Y yo aquí, esperando.
No piensas en que te amamos,
Que yo, una mujer frustrada,
Tengo la esperanza de vivir,
de verte una vez más hijo, mi amor.

Julia entre las hojas de
Lo que fue posible
Cerró la puerta, cierra la boca
contra los besos del amor.
Besa la muerte.
Cierra el libro.
Cierra la ley.

¿Y cómo te sientes al fin?
¿Viviste conforme a la carne?
¿Por qué no escribes un torrente de
poemas? ¿No hay otros más por otros días?
¿Otras maravillas? Mira...
Que quieres fin,
eso lo entiendo,
pero la posibilidad...
Siempre pienso yo en la posibilidad,
de lo que posiblemente será.
Me mareo, ¿Por qué te vas?

Julia se mareó,
Olvidó todo, la hoja frente a los ojos,
No siente nada. No siento nada.
Solo ausencia.

Levanto las velas, enfrente una cruz
Un poco de espuma sobre la pluma,
Bajo tu cuello, Marinero,
Una almohada de espuma,
Gladiador muerto sobre arena, luchando la muerte.
En sangre escribiste la pena, que
La vida no vale,
Moriste para que podamos morir,
En paz, digno.
¿Nos dejas aquí?
vivir solo?
no.
Una vela,
Espero el viento.