Wednesday, April 4, 2018
Saturday, April 3, 2010
The shadow of space
I wanted
to discuss
When and why
With you
Coats became jackets
As a sign humans
Became modern
Since it circled
A time closer
To my birth
Than yours
Then I saw
A slow moving
Man
With coal colored
Skin
In worn denim
Overalls
His smirk told
Me about
When and why
Phones rang
Incessantly non-detachable
From walls
……his black skin; your blue eyes,
Blond hair on green grass
He simply quietly sat
Staring at his meal
Waiting
We sat on a prairie
Thinking best
To think
Rather than wait
For all the devices
Of our day
To communicate the ardent delirium
I feel and you
Avoid
And define
As friend
When did it all abruptly change?
What catalyst is to blame?
How come technology did not amend emotions?
Why are you my disease?
Where is my soul relocated?
And if I continue to ask
My remorse grows
With every return you invite
Me to resist but I acquiesce
Not to lose you as acquaintance
But in these decades
Nothing changes except
The height of the years
The artifacts powered by
The modulation of electrons
Particles
Make love a bigger madness
Than the comfort promised
By the Egyptians
And all others who defined
Civilization as the birth of
Hero and despot worship
Given hate is the power
Love creates when
All other monsters
Failed to ignite the songs
Of worship and dependence
No odes are designed for
Fallen; the lie of martyrdom.
My plight for pity through
Adoration…
I want to hold
And
Enter
(So I can have
The
Strength
To
Leave)
You.
All we did
During these times of thought
Analysis
Introspection
Was discuss
The mud on my new boots.
There is a drought
Of
Decorum
Affecting all humanity
But
Power
Still rules.
While waiting
For the death of paper
And
Hoping
Writing does not become obsolete
My pondering
Centers on the zipper
Being
The agent of change
Coats becoming jackets;
Cordless, wireless, digital,
Interconnections
Followed
Yet we, us, them
Make obsession
Human
endless
to discuss
When and why
With you
Coats became jackets
As a sign humans
Became modern
Since it circled
A time closer
To my birth
Than yours
Then I saw
A slow moving
Man
With coal colored
Skin
In worn denim
Overalls
His smirk told
Me about
When and why
Phones rang
Incessantly non-detachable
From walls
……his black skin; your blue eyes,
Blond hair on green grass
He simply quietly sat
Staring at his meal
Waiting
We sat on a prairie
Thinking best
To think
Rather than wait
For all the devices
Of our day
To communicate the ardent delirium
I feel and you
Avoid
And define
As friend
When did it all abruptly change?
What catalyst is to blame?
How come technology did not amend emotions?
Why are you my disease?
Where is my soul relocated?
And if I continue to ask
My remorse grows
With every return you invite
Me to resist but I acquiesce
Not to lose you as acquaintance
But in these decades
Nothing changes except
The height of the years
The artifacts powered by
The modulation of electrons
Particles
Make love a bigger madness
Than the comfort promised
By the Egyptians
And all others who defined
Civilization as the birth of
Hero and despot worship
Given hate is the power
Love creates when
All other monsters
Failed to ignite the songs
Of worship and dependence
No odes are designed for
Fallen; the lie of martyrdom.
My plight for pity through
Adoration…
I want to hold
And
Enter
(So I can have
The
Strength
To
Leave)
You.
All we did
During these times of thought
Analysis
Introspection
Was discuss
The mud on my new boots.
There is a drought
Of
Decorum
Affecting all humanity
But
Power
Still rules.
While waiting
For the death of paper
And
Hoping
Writing does not become obsolete
My pondering
Centers on the zipper
Being
The agent of change
Coats becoming jackets;
Cordless, wireless, digital,
Interconnections
Followed
Yet we, us, them
Make obsession
Human
endless
Clenched
I am drenched
but then again
Last year was so dry
everything had too much space
with crisp cold air
seen from the windproof
window
third floor
hospital bed
intensive care
my feet speak angrily
to the concrete
my eyes firmly focused
staring at the rising
steam from the
towering smoke stack
towers ahead and afar
this year my jaw
tightens not wanting
the dry or to go back
the yard divided into
fear one year
anger this one
seeing frost and sand
along the beach
too cold for snow
yet too wet today
tomorrow’s breeze
carrying off grains
to the waters aside me
full hand to my face
covering my weary
vision pinching my
nose grabbing my
jaw pulling forward
on my chin
thumb and forefinger
at home on cheekbone
the anguish buried
in the teeth
grinding at the purity
of my ferocity
my disappointment
has a taste of fervor
savored when those
words become phrases
of distance; disillusionment
I have only deceived me
any pain has my ownership
the accompanying ardor
flares into worship
boiling then wilting
whispers, wishes and
weeping without tears
except alone
my whimpers allow
my wallowing of pity
then self
hugs are
not enough
neither are
small pecks
of gratitude
to replace guilt
seen in
the window of when
or ever
given neither sadness
or madness
is loudest
at dawn
the dreams dwarfed
the sorrow
of longing
a year ago, but
now at nighttime
bedtime before sleep
the sorrow of
longing dwarfs
the nightmare
of shadows
loneliness is an
interminable
shame
no wonder it is
a choice
made on pride
then I see her!
strolling where he
once walked this
block that seemed
a mile in a desert
the same insanity
afflicts their countenance
he perished in his own
skin while we neighbors
frowned about not knowing
for some time but happy
we finally said hello
to each other
but her eyes scamper
wildly at this year’s
greenery; an early
spring
you act as if
your direction
is more important
than that of this
falling deluge of rain
our ode to redundancy
is when I say I love you
it is us surmised as martyrdom
and the weight of your
descendants descent casts
a much heavier burden
we all seek more than good night or bye
the man you seek within me
is gone; my person is but a shell
of what used to be
when sleeping I want someone
besides me
last year, in the fog
of dying
I declare to you
my devotion
rain drenching diluvia
makes the drought
of bravery from
last year’s freeze
and snow
seems so close
yet distant
this year much
nearer the insanity
of serenity
too much
now too little
but then again
Last year was so dry
everything had too much space
with crisp cold air
seen from the windproof
window
third floor
hospital bed
intensive care
my feet speak angrily
to the concrete
my eyes firmly focused
staring at the rising
steam from the
towering smoke stack
towers ahead and afar
this year my jaw
tightens not wanting
the dry or to go back
the yard divided into
fear one year
anger this one
seeing frost and sand
along the beach
too cold for snow
yet too wet today
tomorrow’s breeze
carrying off grains
to the waters aside me
full hand to my face
covering my weary
vision pinching my
nose grabbing my
jaw pulling forward
on my chin
thumb and forefinger
at home on cheekbone
the anguish buried
in the teeth
grinding at the purity
of my ferocity
my disappointment
has a taste of fervor
savored when those
words become phrases
of distance; disillusionment
I have only deceived me
any pain has my ownership
the accompanying ardor
flares into worship
boiling then wilting
whispers, wishes and
weeping without tears
except alone
my whimpers allow
my wallowing of pity
then self
hugs are
not enough
neither are
small pecks
of gratitude
to replace guilt
seen in
the window of when
or ever
given neither sadness
or madness
is loudest
at dawn
the dreams dwarfed
the sorrow
of longing
a year ago, but
now at nighttime
bedtime before sleep
the sorrow of
longing dwarfs
the nightmare
of shadows
loneliness is an
interminable
shame
no wonder it is
a choice
made on pride
then I see her!
strolling where he
once walked this
block that seemed
a mile in a desert
the same insanity
afflicts their countenance
he perished in his own
skin while we neighbors
frowned about not knowing
for some time but happy
we finally said hello
to each other
but her eyes scamper
wildly at this year’s
greenery; an early
spring
you act as if
your direction
is more important
than that of this
falling deluge of rain
our ode to redundancy
is when I say I love you
it is us surmised as martyrdom
and the weight of your
descendants descent casts
a much heavier burden
we all seek more than good night or bye
the man you seek within me
is gone; my person is but a shell
of what used to be
when sleeping I want someone
besides me
last year, in the fog
of dying
I declare to you
my devotion
rain drenching diluvia
makes the drought
of bravery from
last year’s freeze
and snow
seems so close
yet distant
this year much
nearer the insanity
of serenity
too much
now too little
the blind voyeur
the taste
in my mouth
now a stench
mother
sister
father
brothers all
for it was
just a brew
dark
not to escape
but to mis-communicate
the dissention
that binds
the odor
from my body
is that of
soap
showered on
this morning and
the oily, waxy
substance placed afterwards
under my arm for
the shell
that is me
ensconces
truth un-wearable
the sight
of waiter, owner, cashier
smiling
offering a Polish porter
to a Panamanian
a metaphor misplaced
for boredom
a strategy of
using the enemy’s
tactics for advancement
may just work today
denial is cowardice
despite its comfort
this morning
the spring storm
clattered its way into my
window so I arose
brushed
and cleaned
the dust
from the cherry wood
frame of the photo
of a flower
in the bathroom
the white specs
vanished
as did the tree
in the yard
where the children
once they learned
to climb it
hid
their anguish
found
their solace
much as
the blue
of dark
finds
the small opening
of light
from the bedroom
door
ajar;
the glass
over the photo
remains
smudged
hoping
whatever present or
past
would not enter
the future
the cherry tree
is now the fuel
flaming the food
the smoke watering
my eyes ;my countenance
cleansed
I fearful of my
own tears falling
in my mouth
now a stench
mother
sister
father
brothers all
for it was
just a brew
dark
not to escape
but to mis-communicate
the dissention
that binds
the odor
from my body
is that of
soap
showered on
this morning and
the oily, waxy
substance placed afterwards
under my arm for
the shell
that is me
ensconces
truth un-wearable
the sight
of waiter, owner, cashier
smiling
offering a Polish porter
to a Panamanian
a metaphor misplaced
for boredom
a strategy of
using the enemy’s
tactics for advancement
may just work today
denial is cowardice
despite its comfort
this morning
the spring storm
clattered its way into my
window so I arose
brushed
and cleaned
the dust
from the cherry wood
frame of the photo
of a flower
in the bathroom
the white specs
vanished
as did the tree
in the yard
where the children
once they learned
to climb it
hid
their anguish
found
their solace
much as
the blue
of dark
finds
the small opening
of light
from the bedroom
door
ajar;
the glass
over the photo
remains
smudged
hoping
whatever present or
past
would not enter
the future
the cherry tree
is now the fuel
flaming the food
the smoke watering
my eyes ;my countenance
cleansed
I fearful of my
own tears falling
Saturday, November 28, 2009
the avuncular precipice
the avuncular precipice
virgin at 50
he stopped
giving himself
answers
.before
;here now
?revelation and redemption
:future
while listening
to train and clock
pierce, disassemble
the empty vapors, clouds
of the black night
sky
the clock: on the wall clicking and ticking the tally of hours and minutes
the train: at the waterfront blaring and clearing its way on the tracks
him: hearing movement and time with no purpose but quiet
in a land where noise is renumeration
in a place where sound is validation
in a home dark with vibrations
his contribution is his inhalation and exhalation
profound and audible
he decides to prostitute
at 50
the voices of himself
shouting at each other
over the empty cliff
void of color and substance
emiting more
questions
virgin at 50
he stopped
giving himself
answers
.before
;here now
?revelation and redemption
:future
while listening
to train and clock
pierce, disassemble
the empty vapors, clouds
of the black night
sky
the clock: on the wall clicking and ticking the tally of hours and minutes
the train: at the waterfront blaring and clearing its way on the tracks
him: hearing movement and time with no purpose but quiet
in a land where noise is renumeration
in a place where sound is validation
in a home dark with vibrations
his contribution is his inhalation and exhalation
profound and audible
he decides to prostitute
at 50
the voices of himself
shouting at each other
over the empty cliff
void of color and substance
emiting more
questions
Sunday, May 3, 2009
La Lupa del Otoño
La Lupa del Otoño
el Otoño susurró su traje acuática
de seda
acariciando mis mejías
con gotitas--
entre bruma y llovizna una retahíla a mi
rostro
walking forth
backward from
journey to thought
la sabrosura de los últimos ña pitos
de septiembre
tragados
al vientre
de octubre
the dark clouds cling sky to sea
blue into gray with a roar
las brujas han envenenado el cielo
del atardecer rojo
el mismo color del plumaje
pintado de las naves con trayectoria al sur
one of them
intoned
“it is time!”
to flock, flee and fly south
to the land somewhere
beneath their bellies
where my father's seed
found my mother's egg
este anochecer soleado y lluvioso
avisando del desnudo de los árboles
de sus hojas
green to yellow, to red, to brown
pillars of white castles staking claim en el horizonte
verticalmente
to the waters near and far
la humedad es un algodón
invisible sobre mi pecho
mis brazos extendido para
la pequeña ducha
las flores que salen
de mis huesos
cantan
del anhelo de permanecer
en una cuna resplandeciente de un sola bandera
two flags waved upon my birth
on one land
para cierta gente fue la ciudad del Atlántico:
Colón
for the boats with guns it was the Coco Solo Naval
Station Hospital
the shadow of the last bird
late in reaching the group
hears me cry out:
“dale mis saludos a la patria que no es mi
hogar”
echoing among these trees recently seeded
for another millenium
cuando los inviernos calentosos
y veranos que hierven de frío
será lo normal
free speech is a house but a home lost
to invention of time and age
invenciones humanas de minutos, horas y círculos
for the circuses of the blind walls
where movement is truth
my trust in permanence
porque la justicia es otra creación presunta
los escaso escombros del estival se aventan
another year existed yet exiting
días de gris y sol helado
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Arena y Sal
A la playa
Llevamos
La naranja y la toronja
El vinagre y la miel
Las caricias y las críticas
De las olas obtuvimos
Versos
De tierras lejanas
De pueblos al otro lado
Del cerro
Cada revuelto de la marea; un liceo
La reseca leña
Naufragada y orillada de un buque
Al comienzo del siglo pasado
…se queja del peso mío
Al oír otra vez
Palabras de declaración
Frases de promesas
Mentiras de defensa
Súplicas martirizadas
Oraciones de niñez
Mareos de infancia
Una juventud desperdiciada
Semejando ser jubilado y femenino
Desnudado de sus ramas y sus raíces
Este árbol ahora mi asiento
Se ríe y se burla
De mi confusión
El rostro delante de mí
Un lecho; una sombra de madera
Una piedra deslumbrada sin
El lucero y el resplandor del medio día
El frío no distingue
Amanecer del atardecer
El sol del este vestido de pollera
Pero al llegar al oeste
Se abriga de cuero
El cielo
Nublado o claro; expuesto al universo
¡no soy muñeco!
¡ni soy juguete!
Soy bestia
El ogro del paraíso
Un oso perdido
Buscando palmeras
En el noroeste congelado
El desliz de cada etapa
Sin impedimento
La arena debajo de mis rodillas
Ha manchado mi piel
Los granos dejando marcas rojas
Mis lágrimas
Al asomarse del párpado
Encuentran un terreno peludo
Un disfraz sin género
Sexo femenino cuerpo masculino
De la playa
Llevamos
Lleno de espuma y la sal del mar
Una alfombra
Dejando detrás nuestras sábanas
Recoger el soplo del viento
Que menea entre las dunas
En busca
Del mañana
El sendero
Donde el odio
Se convive
Con
El amor
En esa playa dejé
Toda creencia en las dulzuras
de las cerezas, manzanas, fresas o zarzamoras
sin amarguras y
No como escombros de basura,
pero como sandalias inútiles
de esto
nos quedó
arena
entre y debajo
de nuestros pies
…algo que se lava
Y desaparece de inmediato
Los barcos con sus velas
En la bahía mantienen su silencio
Interrumpido por el sonido de
mi corazón roto en quiebra: me dice
“Desde el alba al crepúsculo
Ya no creo en el amor”
Increíble, que todavía
Como la gaviota que vuela
Y flota al aire sin moverse,
Quiero amar otra vez

Llevamos
La naranja y la toronja
El vinagre y la miel
Las caricias y las críticas
De las olas obtuvimos
Versos
De tierras lejanas
De pueblos al otro lado
Del cerro
Cada revuelto de la marea; un liceo
La reseca leña
Naufragada y orillada de un buque
Al comienzo del siglo pasado
…se queja del peso mío
Al oír otra vez
Palabras de declaración
Frases de promesas
Mentiras de defensa
Súplicas martirizadas
Oraciones de niñez
Mareos de infancia
Una juventud desperdiciada
Semejando ser jubilado y femenino
Desnudado de sus ramas y sus raíces
Este árbol ahora mi asiento
Se ríe y se burla
De mi confusión
El rostro delante de mí
Un lecho; una sombra de madera
Una piedra deslumbrada sin
El lucero y el resplandor del medio día
El frío no distingue
Amanecer del atardecer
El sol del este vestido de pollera
Pero al llegar al oeste
Se abriga de cuero
El cielo
Nublado o claro; expuesto al universo
¡no soy muñeco!
¡ni soy juguete!
Soy bestia
El ogro del paraíso
Un oso perdido
Buscando palmeras
En el noroeste congelado
El desliz de cada etapa
Sin impedimento
La arena debajo de mis rodillas
Ha manchado mi piel
Los granos dejando marcas rojas
Mis lágrimas
Al asomarse del párpado
Encuentran un terreno peludo
Un disfraz sin género
Sexo femenino cuerpo masculino
De la playa
Llevamos
Lleno de espuma y la sal del mar
Una alfombra
Dejando detrás nuestras sábanas
Recoger el soplo del viento
Que menea entre las dunas
En busca
Del mañana
El sendero
Donde el odio
Se convive
Con
El amor
En esa playa dejé
Toda creencia en las dulzuras
de las cerezas, manzanas, fresas o zarzamoras
sin amarguras y
No como escombros de basura,
pero como sandalias inútiles
de esto
nos quedó
arena
entre y debajo
de nuestros pies
…algo que se lava
Y desaparece de inmediato
Los barcos con sus velas
En la bahía mantienen su silencio
Interrumpido por el sonido de
mi corazón roto en quiebra: me dice
“Desde el alba al crepúsculo
Ya no creo en el amor”
Increíble, que todavía
Como la gaviota que vuela
Y flota al aire sin moverse,
Quiero amar otra vez

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