PARTLY DEAD


Every day your are partly dead
Specially in the evening
When you are most near death

At night
Just before falling asleep
You are agonizing

When you close your eyes
And fall asleep
You are dead for sure

If you dream
There is no question
About your demise

When you wake up
If you wake up
You are resurrected
Ready to die again
Many times over

morning medicine


frozen water
wrapped in clear plastic
punctured by invisible icepicks

the birds sing
with mysterious rhythms
all seems too natural

the crystal rock
is moved by force
and it rolls on the dirt
dirt is always better than pavement

the eastern sun
makes of this an artichoke
a birthday wish
a flying airplane running out of gas

KITCHEN


I like the solitude of making breakfast
While the children play
At being heroes elsewhere

I like that feeling
Of working the liturgy of the ingredients
Adjusting the intensity of the fire

I remember camping trips
We would compete for such an honor
It was always a duty to be done alone

Some would smoke as they cooked
Others would look intently at the food
Knowing this would be the last stare
Their last taste of the morning

ONE OF YOUR POEMS


I also remember your embrace
When we were on lockdown
Touching each other without a key

You had me by the neck
And I was pressing on your soul

And both of us were burning
But it didn’t hurt
Like the fire that ignites
The candles of Jerusalem

You were strong
Oh so strong!
I was happy
Because I could love you
Without killing you

We were a rocking ship
And I liked it better
When we were underwater
I know you did too

When I began to lose my breath
Is when I heard the music
Your song
Your melody
Your teardrop