Sunday, November 27, 2011

Paper Thin Walls


Paper Thin Walls

He speaks
in a scorching voice
inventing what he cannot promise.
I wonder if my neighbor
listens
to my toilet flushing,
believing
the other is always lying
in wait.

Nation


Nation

Look mother,
I peeled away your anger
and stopped building
sand castles
by the sea.
The nation
is riddled with thieves
and no door opens easily.
My childish dreams?
Fulfilled, and laid to rest. 

poem was entered into a competition


poem was entered into a competition

Thursday, November 24, 2011

The Deadly Mirror


The Deadly Mirror

Inconclusive thoughts
are what I hear inside my head:
because the mind’s eye lit the sun. 
Must I give up the world
to be saved?  Shall I forget
his lips on my nape to write
what I perceive to be a new earth?
My imagination flutters like a swallow,
and cries like a hungry baby.
I sit and play the saxophone
in self contemplation.  The mirror
tells the truth, but not enough
to merit constant thought.
I am folding inward over
and over.  Six inches of words
and I am betrayed, hypnotized into
believing I have achieved
all there is to achieve in this art.
Therefore, I start a new contemplation
of the swallow and I listen to the fragment
of phrases like Imitations, Life Studies
and Notebook. I will never find the one
flower that sustains all the earth.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

at the hospital


at the hospital


a sudden change
in temperature, malady
of autumn

I am utterly empty
only a name tag to identify
me as survivor

tulips search for me
but in this winter light I have
wanted to efface myself

the air is calm
yet tulips fill it like a loud noise
I must concentrate

commit myself
to rest, place all my attention
on taking it easy

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Headache


Headache


Soon I’ll be a fugitive
of my own skin, raw.
I’ve chosen the rare
sensation of  tainted
blood to outfit my
bow of thorns.  Today
I will not clutch a fist
in the wind’s sneer,
nor will I disenchant
my examiners. I will
wait for the postman
to deliver the world turning
from my rented attic;
wait for the headache
to ease, or go away
all together.

Saturday, November 05, 2011

Rain and Sound


Rain and Sound

Listen to me as one listens to the rain:
we are distracted once again.  Night
approaches with its dense cloak of fear,
an assault for which there is no cure.
It is never winter here,
yet the hibiscus have been censored
like men trying to show their affection
for each other.  Air, water, and flower
there is no weight in these words.
Night has the figurations of mist.
Listen to me as one listens to the rain:
(Censor my desire for writing you poems.)
Not attentive, not distracted, only as if
I were the rain. Hear me out until
the asphalt is wet.  You are you
in night steam.  You enter my eyes
as your steam crosses the street. 
The sun does not varnish the curve.
We are both steam.   Steam of another
censored flower, lotus.

Blog Archive

Followers

About Me

My photo
San Juan, Puerto Rico, Puerto Rico
Sergio A. Ortiz is a Puerto Rican poet and the founding editor of Undertow Tanka Review. He is a two-time Pushcart nominee, a four-time Best of the Web nominee, and 2016 Best of the Net nominee. 2nd place in the 2016 Ramón Ataz annual poetry competition, sponsored by Alaire Publishing House. He is currently working on his first full-length collection of poems, Elephant Graveyard. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sergio A. Ortiz es poeta puertorriqueño que escribe en inglés y español. Actualmente trabaja en su primera colección de poesía, Elephant Graveyard, Cementerio de Elefantes. Ha sido nominado al premio Pushcart en dos ocasiones, al Best of the Web en cuatro ocasiones, y al Best of the Net, 2016. 2do lugar Premio Ramón Ataz de Poesía, 2016. Sus poemas han aparecido, o están por aparecer, en revistas literarias como: Letralía, Chachala Review, The Accentos Review, Resonancias, por mencionar algunos.

Typying