Saturday, December 06, 2008


I saw her
At the mystic kitchen
A light beaming
From above
Her eyes
Illuminating the
Tables with bounty &
Hope inside
Coffee cups
With future
Resting comfortably
On red salsa bowls
Waiting to be digested
By dazzled intentions

Delightfully silent
Her lips
Like the waves
Of my ocean
Her face beginning
To redden despite
Her DNA composition

The mark of my kiss
Embedded delicately
In her forehead
Invisible love scar
Encrypted with
The fire of trust

Silent she sat
Sighing with the
Aroma of language
The curvature of her lips
Made all the statements
That were necessary
She was dressed to know the truth
Her black hair covered
Her beautiful face
Her countenance


Tú eres mi carta del amor
Clandestina y especial
Tú eres mi tesoro del azar
Milagro de la suerte
Antídoto de mis incertidumbres
Medicina de mis cielos
Brillo de mi realidad
Mi coordenada de hermosura
Mi estrella del alma
Mis caricias de viento
Mis encantos de luna llena
Mis sueños con sabor a ti
Mis nubes y mis lluvias
Mi flor de playa

Thursday, December 04, 2008


When she came back from the army
I always thought she would get tired of me
And cut me down with her sniper skills

Instead she took my pen
And stabbed
My back with it

I wonder if I still have the scars

I laid on our bed
And told her
I would get
Ink poisoning
Told her I was going to die

She began to cry
Like the time when
I was outsmarted
By a dog & ended up
With a hole in my head

She kissed me
She kissed every
Open wound
She made love to me

Tuesday, December 02, 2008


This time your siesta
Will be longer that expected

You can’t forget how to play the strings
And this is good because
You will need
This knowledge forever

Playing guitar was never hard for you
It was your delight
It gave you meaning

You played your way through life
And you will continue
Doing this while resting &
Waiting to be awoken by Him

It was your music
When you asked me to sing
“Teach your children well”
And your guitar would change
The sea & the night

It was your music
In military turf
Your Native American music
Playing the bathrooms of war

It was your music
When beautiful
Protestant women
Anglo-Saxon women
Would tried to convert you
Their lustful trembling eyes fixed on you
As they try to pray for your salvation
So they could marry you

It was your music
As I drove into the USA
And you drove shotgun
Reading those secrets of yours
Telling me not look at what
You were seeing
Telling me I was still too young

It was your music
Hitched to moving vans
Overcrowded with missionaries
Your music shouting:
Don’t go!

Monday, December 01, 2008


A ghost
Cooks in my
Mother’s kitchen


I saw her again
She looked weary
Somewhat fretful
Her freshness & her smile
Had disappeared

At the coffee place
She looked incredibly attractive
But here at this
Warehouse of images
She seems vulnerable
Her children stood with her
Perhaps it was the haste
To switch colors

After all this time
I still feel the distress of others
I never managed to get rid
Of that sensor

It’s your turn Sir, you are next
She said

I had forgotten
We were both on the same line
And the salesmen
Behind the artifacts
Were calling me
Making signs with their
Hands & arms
So I would approach them

I was there
But my mind was elsewhere
And my heart was
Was far away

Sunday, November 30, 2008


It has begun
Tonight my baby boy
Asked to sleep with his guitar