Saturday, November 29, 2008


El triunfo
Es un estado mental
Una encrucijada
De sentimientos intervenidos
Si supieras
Contra quién compites
Tu encandilamiento
Se convertiría
En la más intensa euforia
Y la llamas
En lo que siempre han sido
En las caricias de Dios

Friday, November 28, 2008

Even after all this time
The sun never says to the earth, "You owe me."
Look what happens with a Love like that!
—It lights the whole Sky. (Hafiz)

Writing a love poem is like building difficult quarters, the edification of an ambitious house; it is a launch of happiness in every direction with your eyes shut. A love poem always looks for the personification of this dear virtue that is mandated by the most beautiful religions of the world. Once you have your muse, your inspiration, your conflagration, once you have lost every single fragment of rationalism and your aesthetic guide has taken over to become your autopilot, once that magnificent image has proven willing & able to be the visual & lyrical epitaph of Love, then & only then, it is time for such an endeavor to begin. This is my poetical wager, my hunt for the deadly essence of passion, my will to capture the dangerous ardor of romance so I may study it, so I may admire it, so I can contemplate it, but above all else, so I can expand the intensity of life by standing next to its (her) fire.

Thursday, November 27, 2008


Dance the African dance
Dance in the Safari
Giving thanks in the bush
See the lions
Grateful for their large supplements
Still moving to the rhythm
This body will nurture
Their feline strength

Ponder the game of survival
The sparks initiated
By the will the participate
In the extraction of energy
Of this organic mass
That emanates wonderful
Units of electricity

Feed upon the light
Of courage
Digest the impulses
Of desperation
Bite chunks off
Large pieces of insolence
Meditate on the fragments
Of disrespect
Lodged between their fangs

Gorge now
Because a dish like this
Is very strange indeed &
We don’t know
What tomorrow will bring

Beings from the wild
Consider the open eyes
Of the prey
Judge for yourselves
If this meat
Is not nutritious
The necessity of it
For us to continue
Walking on the land
Of this radiant continent

Do not chew in anger
But ponder the need
For this our nourishment
It is good for all of God’s creation

Think about this my furry friends
As you tap that rich source of sustenance
For the food you are eating
Will make it leaner
Because nature has endowed you
As master craftsmen
Of this being
Taking away the excess of imprudence
Making of it a beautiful work or art
A skeleton worthy of love
And tenderness
A proper relic to be had
In one’s home
Located at the right place
With the cleansing of oil &
Prayers of thanksgiving

Wednesday, November 26, 2008


Las bóvedas celestes
Nos pertenecen
Amor invisible
Auténtico como el oxigeno
Explosivo para los malvados
Aliciente de enamorados
Deliciosos secretos
Que desatan
Celebraciones infantiles


We sat facing each other
She smiled at me & I smiled back
Then she began to play with her hair
Using her fingers as a curler iron
& I kept smiling for her
& then I looked through the windows
She began to play
Putting her finger inside her mouth
Trying ferociously to recapture my attention
But there is always other amusing
Miracles to look at
& she pulled the string
& the bus stopped
& she was gone forever
& I was beginning to feel comfortable
When 2 precious girls sat next to me
1 to my right
The other 1 to my left
Instinctively I tried to get up
And move to another seat but
They were both sitting on
The flaps of my jacket
And I could not takeoff
They were commandeered
By an old woman wearing a shirt
With a recycle symbol on it
Who was sucking on a lollipop
& looking straight at me
& all of them began to play with
Their hair….
But I was more concerned with
The prettiest princess sitting
In the corner holding a notebook
On her lap that said “English”
Nervously covering love poems
The she had written on her hand
& she was having none of this
But she was sighing…
& I was nailed down to my seat
Thinking about the heavenly woman
Who is now living in my heart

Monday, November 24, 2008


When they sleep
Rapidly moving their eyelids
It’s because the dreams
Have entered
Have pierced
The soft tissue
And the healers make sure
The visions are like belladonna

I’ll take your fright
And give you my hands
So you can softly bite them

More & more

More of your breaths
Injecting your sorrow
Into my recycled steps

Love is hard work!

You can sleep in
If you want to
At this station
We have this kind of opulence

Clocks & watches
Stop working
When you’re happy


Nubes de pólvora
Son velo de sol
El oriente se ilumina
Los muertos descansan
Los vivos terminan sus jornadas
Un gallo canta

Sunday, November 23, 2008


Beauty lies
On imperfection
Like helicopters
Flying on the wrong
Side of the sky
Like bicycles
On the world’s runways
Like my lips
Waiting to kiss you