Adobo Criollo

Hidden

2012-01-28T13:54:00.003-04:00

Hidden

Stolen rhododendrons in my hand—

the old imperfections of a heart at large.

I draw near my rope’s end shrunk to common size,

ignored in this tawdry harbor, hidden like a lizard

beaten by history’s hazardous lack of action.

Unlucky hero born in the province of the stuck record

where the most watchful tailors go jobless

and scissor cut their own patterns.

Blameless children stand looking

at a field of horses, necks bent,

tails streaming against the green

backdrop of sycamores.

Rough

2012-01-18T12:26:00.005-04:00

Rough

disaffection,

do not look at my skin

nor touch my lips.

The exterior that covers

my bones in revelation

needs to be moisturized

with truth. What areyou

seeing in my mirror

this morning?

The ease with which

you deal with your pretentions?

For I am your brother

corrected and already raised.

I have known you over

and over again

as I’ve lived throughout

this city.

Reseco

2012-01-18T11:43:00.003-04:00

Reseco

Áspero desamor.

No mires

mi piel ni toques

mis labios. Estoy reseco

sin esperanza

de humectar ladermis

que me cubre.

If It Ever Happens that a Candle Goes Out

2012-01-16T15:08:00.004-04:00

If It Ever Happens that a Candle Goes Out

It’s never the same longing

that leads me into the dredges at the fishery.

It’s always something unclear, muddied

by what gathers around my eyes.

Something like a cuckoo calls the hours

like an old clock, only not the hours

that are essential. Ithink I see the day

tossing back what it is shown. But you cannot hope

backwards or in reverse. Someone I love

has died, I am certain, but I cannot tell who.

Inventory

2012-01-13T13:24:00.000-04:00

Inventory

the tyrannical empire

of the absurd

the tears waiting

at the curve

the way you sheltered

my heart

the silence you dispensed

like a wall in the dark

lofts of desire

the mother that died

when you were a child

the kiss that rotted

on our lips

the beach inhabited

by worms

the bed flying

in a void

the avalanche of gods

and myths

everything given and taken

the shit we hopelessly dumped

on each other

the bread we shared

the caresses,

the weight of our

open hands

fifteen and empty

2012-01-13T10:19:00.003-04:00

fifteen and empty

fried green tomatoes

unable to get past

the first two lines

broken in combat

the last thing

I’ll hear is me

Breaching the Discipline of Time

2012-01-10T22:36:00.000-04:00

Breaching theDiscipline of Time

Someone once said

I wasn’t born

for the thick prose

of hard labor,

insisted I was pure

and agile,

like the sea breeze,

a wave of fragrance

in the petal of a rose

breaching

the discipline of time.
Aren't we all?

In the Woods

2012-01-09T13:20:00.003-04:00

In the Woods

We found each other in the woods.

His touch did not alarm me.

It provoked a soothing sensation

as if I had been slightly salted.

Our cars were still running. There were cats

everywhere, wild cats on the prowl

wanting to mate. Wegot out of the cars

to talk but soon enough we were touching

each other. Thesilence was thick.

We allowed nature to watch.

Aubade

2012-01-02T11:40:00.003-04:00

Aubade

Iwant us to watch

thedawn

whileour faces turn

towardeach other

andthe clothes

wewear burn off

inthe newborn light.

Yousaid we should always

bebrave. I try to be

everymorning over my toothbrush

andthe waning stars.

Istare through your eyes,

yourfirm heart

beatingpeaceful rhythms

withdetermination

anda brush of bells.

haiku

2011-12-31T11:51:00.002-04:00

old calendar…
a museum of Mayan
tapestries

Your Name

2011-12-31T10:41:00.000-04:00

Your Name

It is time

for me to crack open

my skull,

see what’s inside,

invent a new way of looking at things.

I know I am dying

but why should that make

a difference?

People die one day at a time.

I shall build a house

that will stand forever,

with a smile folding at the corner

of my mouth, and a star sitting

on my tongue

like a stone around which

your name blossoms

distorted

Haiku

2011-12-24T09:53:00.001-04:00

old calendar …

I let the dead sleep

as they deserve

For the days when the lights switch on and off by themselves

2011-12-18T13:57:00.000-04:00

For the days when thelights switch on and off by themselves

and all the voice messages are from enemies

or other people

Only the good old days

lie

between verses

we have already written

For the fruit of fear in each December

Will this be the year

earth refuses

to forgive us with a blush of green

For the assumptions

of next winter’s chill

and for the quiet days in between

Your face mingled

in the poinsettias

after a brief rain

haiku

2011-12-18T13:20:00.003-04:00

waning moon

trying to touch

what matters

On my Bed Thinking About You

2011-12-15T12:57:00.004-04:00

On my Bed Thinking AboutYou

If I could touch

without hurting you

I would run all the way to the river

and back.

But nothing has changed.

You are voiceless,

crouched

in some long-forgotten childhood

hiding place,

a dark jungle where every tree

looks like every other tree.

I long for your scent,

your knees pushing against

my thighs,

but what is asked for is often destroyed

by the very words that seek it.

My bed is a fossilized prison

where I learn to make love to you forever.

haiku

2011-12-14T11:39:00.003-04:00

window shopping…

the conversations we won’t
be having

Haiku

2011-12-14T10:48:00.004-04:00

shrouded moon—
feeding a chicken
to the boa

Eulogy

2011-12-13T12:31:00.004-04:00

Eulogy

For Yorelys

Beaten, raped, and murdered,

our child lies in a coffin

brutally deserted.

What monsters with nightmares

hidden in their eyes

do things like this?

Neither day nor night

can heal her now.

Soon the heat will fuse

her lurid eyes
to diamonds

her sullen tongue

to quartz.

Then she will fly

and never bleed again.

Ghost

2011-12-10T12:11:00.001-04:00

Ghost

A dark jungle,
looking like a dark jungle,
is where I am never quite myself.
I don't want to trip
over its silence.

I don’t want a life apart
from the pain I conceal
from portions of myself,
from your voice crying
to someone else
come play in the rain, love.
This is not the same summer rain.

Our first season of separation
I counted dead roses
in the back yard.
I didn't write our names on the mailbox.
You couldn't listen to my dreams.
I couldn't question yours.

The scars are there.
I don’t know how many years I spent
trying to forget, afraid of how many years
I spend trying to remember.

Haiku

2011-12-09T11:05:00.001-04:00

twilight—
a hawk builds its nest
in a windy place

haiku

2011-12-08T14:26:00.001-04:00

new year’s morning...

the hawk builds its nest
in a windy place

Seasoning

2011-12-08T13:21:00.001-04:00

Seasoning

My eyes are rehearsing

for when the winter solstice ends.

As the light wanes I see

what I thought was reluctance covering

my face. I want toexpand

every moment into an emotional chemistry

that includes the smell and texture of

every lover I’ve had.

But the solstice is ending,

old recalled lovers who look

like glasswing butterflies

stretched across other summers

find the pot of gold at the end

of my rainbow.

A Litany for Survival

2011-12-06T14:46:00.001-04:00

A Litany for Survival

For A.L.

An elephant walked into my bedroom

reciting a litany for survival

She spoke about her brown mother

and sister having died too many deaths

that were not their own

She spoke about redemption

and a new religion

She spoke about winter people

taking off their blood masks

and monuments for the children of war

She spoke about hunger and blind feet

trying to find their way to the sun

She spoke about a greedy black unicorn

that was not free

She spoke about having two faces

and a frying pan to cook up her daughters

She spoke about two men with stone eyes

making love in the hallway

they were lying like felled maple

Soon the hallway was covered

with these beggars
and I couldn’t pass over them
Perhaps I wasn't meant to survive

Caetano Veloso

2011-12-05T14:28:00.001-04:00

Published Haiku

2011-12-05T14:17:00.001-04:00

fading light…
the steady thrum of rain
on the windows

plowed earth…
bullet-riddled boys
littering the streets

vacant sky—
a graveyard angel rising
above the pebbles

hurricane season…
the severed branches
still green

autumn rain...
I collect my thoughts
and turn a page

moonlight moiré …
autumn waves foam
on the sand

shoulder to shoulder
we stand at his wake...
autumn rain

boarding windows
the hurricane moves closer
to my island

autumn twilight...
crossing the river
stone by stone

sloping hills
now and then
a crow caws

At the End of Night

2011-12-04T14:06:00.001-04:00

At the End of Night

I exist

to be conquered

I, set against all other I’s,

even nature, am a stillborn

poem taken out

of my mother’s pain.

Once I was immortal

beside the sea

condemned to endless mornings,

empty of the knowledge

of manmade rituals

until out of my mouth that knows

came the shape I was seeking

for reason.

Now I am lost among
the stiff trees.

Haiku

2011-12-03T14:00:00.001-04:00

autumn deepens …

the taste of rain

and sunset

To the Survival of Lizards

2011-12-02T13:24:00.001-04:00

To the Survival ofLizards

Call me

Narcissus for I complain

of being lonely

call me what I miss

whatever it is

call me lizard and arrogant

nightmare on your blood moon

your itch to destroy

the indestructible

faces of important men.

Call me diseased

with problems of original sin

because of my worries

call me your myth of father

and son

your determination

in the most conceited image

within me

for I am you

in your most moral

assumptions

scuttling through the cracks

created to admit me

in your living rooms

my honor

comes with your hate

by imitation

and your refusal

to live on.

Haiku

2011-12-02T12:30:00.001-04:00

red moon
summer falling away
from the trees

That Side of a Shade of Sorrow

2011-12-01T16:35:00.001-04:00

That Side of a Shadeof Sorrow

My daily crucifixion

is to be alone.

My voice has that side of a shade

of sorrow,

it is calcified. Perhapsfrom the anger

of both

my father and I.

I dream incessantly

about us working in unison,

but my dreams

eventually turn into nightmares.

I just realized

my home

is not his house

I am free to come

and go as I please. The altar

has fallen,

and I shall learn to conquer yes.

I never loved you,

so free me

quickly

before I destroy us.

Paper Thin Walls

2011-11-27T14:08:00.001-04:00

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

2011-11-27T13:23:00.001-04:00

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

2011-11-27T12:57:00.001-04:00

poem was entered into a competition

The Deadly Mirror

2011-11-24T12:04:00.001-04:00

The Deadly Mirror

Inconclusive thoughts

are what I hear inside my head:

because the mind’s eyelit the sun.

Must I give up the world

to be saved? Shall Iforget

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. Themirror

tells the truth, butnot enough

to merit constantthought.

I am folding inward over

and over. Six inchesof 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.

at the hospital

2011-11-20T13:08:00.001-04:00

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

Headache

2011-11-16T14:56:00.001-04:00

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.

Rain and Sound

2011-11-05T11:49:00.000-04:00

Rain and Sound

Listen to me as onelistens 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 onelistens 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 entermy eyes

as your steam crosses the street.

The sun does not varnish the curve.

We are both steam. Steam of another

censored flower, lotus.

Haiku

2011-10-29T17:25:00.000-04:00

city of enemies…

wet hibiscus glisten

in the light

Haiku

2011-10-27T11:46:00.002-04:00

love crimes…

the imprint of a fallen angel
in the line of fire

Deep Within

2011-10-26T13:20:00.002-04:00

Deep Within

The alchemy of innerworlds,

Can I possibly explainit?

The chemistry of silence

Hidden deep within to protect

The unborn word from the lions

Roaming about the middle earth.

The comatose twin that does not have

The speech impediment and writes

Riddled poems in shorthand.

The rapture of innerworlds,

Can I possibly clarifyit?

The strength is there, yet the will

Waits peacefully hidden from the mind.

A day like today I will find

The strength to sharpen the pencils

And sit down to write.

Haiku

2011-10-21T13:32:00.000-04:00

summer night…
the heady scent of gardenias
and mown grass

Haiku

2011-10-20T16:36:00.001-04:00

summer night…

the heady smell of gardenias

and mown grass

Un Solo Dolor

2011-10-20T12:35:00.003-04:00

Un Solo Dolor

El sol sedestroza en pequeños arcoíris para cruzar mi piel

y hacerme sudarcomo si estuviese acostado cerca de una tortuga

en el piso de un jardínbotánico. No quiero seguir viviendo,

solo espero quese apague mi corazón de un solo dolor. Luego

me iré a dormircon alguna serpiente mansa en el casco de la ciudad

para no aburrir alos gallos ni provocar tormentas.

Haiku

2011-10-19T14:40:00.002-04:00

autumn dusk . . .

the creak of broken beams

in bamboo coves

Curled

2011-10-18T14:08:00.000-04:00

Curled

Soon my heart will stop,

and I will balance my affections

against a different feather.

You won’t anticipate the pain

that rocks me, my soles curled

like a sleeping infant’s.

I will gather the lilies and set

them on our bed, but you will be

missing, absent, gone; going up,

going down, with a stranger

brushing your arm in a hotel

elevator. Yes, stuckwith another

man cruising and brushing his

arm against your elbow.

And I will not be there to save

you from all the gossip. You will

slip away with him into a corridor

until you reach a door that he will

open. Then you willenter the room

and I will be missing.

deleted

2011-10-13T16:16:00.000-04:00

deleted

haiku

2011-10-11T14:59:00.000-04:00

tienecredenciales

callejeras, gata sin tejado

madonna de barrio

Haiku

2011-10-10T16:04:00.002-04:00

butterfly kites flutter

against the ocean air

El Morro

Haiku

2011-10-09T12:58:00.002-04:00

plowed earth

bullet-riddled boys

littering the streets

haiku

2011-10-07T14:00:00.003-04:00

sloping hills
now and then
a crow caws

Haiku

2011-10-02T12:59:00.004-04:00

the steady thrum

of rain on the windows…

late autumn

haiku

2011-09-30T11:02:00.003-04:00

brisa saladasopla

sobre nuestroscuerpos

noche otoñal

The key you have not lost

2011-09-30T10:40:00.003-04:00

The key you have not lost

is there betweenthose spaces,

not by or in, butflanked between

the here andthere, living like a fugitive

on your skin. Itis a prelude to our

memoirs, the textof a poem fused

with nectarines,an exploration

through Copper Canyon,visions

of Haiti’s angelslicking my ears,

a hypnotic danceon sands

matching thecolors that mesh

upon your hips,an experiment

we refuse to putdown, an invitation

to cross thedoorway of the home

I no longeroccupy.

The key you havenot lost

is not the manualfor a digital

camera, orcalendar entries

for next month’sreadings. It is not

the PopularMechanics article

you wrote to putfood on our table,

or a classifiedadd on craigslist.

It wants to bethe bungee jump

into the pangs ofa deer in heat,

the obituary ofbolted doors,

or a listing forall the vacant walls

on which we'll scribble our graffiti.

haiku

2011-09-30T09:59:00.000-04:00

from the text of a

slavers journal, words that give

history an iron taste

The Illusion

2011-09-29T12:47:00.003-04:00

The Illusion

You punish me toprovide

a spectacle ofexcess—tamp

my testicles withaffirmations

of your power.Your mannequins blow

and breatheurgency

like naked bald-hydrasmorgue

between Santiago and Lima

where desertsands are voiceless.

What is differentbetween us

is the intensityof our attraction.

Oh, how manynooses

I've stretcharound the necks of gigolos

at cul-de-sacsocial clubs

where cellos moan

and mouths wiltas I listen

to tangos andpick up sugar

dropped on thetable

trying to ignorethe blood

on my recentlybuffed shoes.

On Family Days

2011-09-28T09:46:00.003-04:00

On Family Days

You don’t try hardenough, she’d say.

All the while, histhoughts grow increasingly gray.

She can’t smell thefear he inhabits,

a macabre work ofart from which he comes and goes,

the run of wind ata deserted murder scene.

She forgets, as heforgets, control

will arrive soonenough,

and that brachiatedspectacle of blame

and praise willdissipate

like hurricanesdispel after they touch land.

They’ll both beleft wondering about the pieces

of debris, theriver’s current,

and how much to fixof whatever comes undone.

haiku

2011-09-27T14:27:00.004-04:00

we stand shoulder

to shoulder at the wake…

days of long rain

Quilts, Flags, and other Wrappings

2011-09-27T10:27:00.004-04:00

Quilts, Flags, and other Wrappings

I started the quilt
when the only reminder
of civility I had was a stuffed doll

whose button eyesfell off.

Sewed while bathing

under the moon’seclipse
and watched you throw my porcelain spoons—
a collection of gifts, against the wall.

I stopped stitching

when you drove thatbulldozer
in sight of all those present

at Jose's welfarefuneral

just because he wasgay and my friend.

I glared at thetangled patches of quilt
as they threw me into a paddy wagon

took me to jail forprotesting
that unwinnable war.

I climbed into bedeven as Allen lay

covered withKaposi’s sarcoma

to calm both ourfears, his and mine.

Studied you when asignature
to keep your only brother

from becoming homeless

made you shudder

at the funeralexpense if he died

while the blotch ofendearment you gave him

was still warm on that piece

of white insignificance.

Then I added thenames.

Mr. Morris

2011-09-27T10:20:00.000-04:00

Mr. Morris

Mr. Morris was atenant

in my house, and afriend.

He wore the night

on his skin, apanther

copiously sprinkledwith stars

draped in spiderwebs.

After a long day'swork

he’d sit by thephone

in the kitchen

and counsel dyingmen

I’d never see.

When the virusspread

and independentliving

was no longer anoption

he wouldn’tcomplain, show fear

or pain, even whenI’d rush him

to the emergencyroom.

It was in a sweatlodge with Mr. Morris

that my feathersdropped as he rose

above the cornfieldlike a vision.

Lucas

2011-09-27T10:15:00.002-04:00

Lucas

We met one lasttime

before his corpsewas washed.

I couldn’t get pastthe odor

of medicine, theskin and bones talking

from the wheelchairstopped me cold.

Lucas? Lucas… I didn’t recognize

the proud man Ionce knew.

He said: Come, give me a hug.

I held on to achair worried

I’d faint, but Icouldn’t betray

the hope investedin an embrace.

He found substance

in the gathering offriends.

I know because I amacquainted

with my sins, andall the ways

my fears havekilled.

haiku

2011-09-26T16:01:00.001-04:00

our Sunday feast

at the water’s edge

autumn evening

Dead Willow

2011-09-26T10:29:00.002-04:00

Dead Willow

[There is a straw mattress

full of bedbugs under the dead willow,

where the tears of every whore

in town are as open as red hibiscus.

It is the only place left to wait.]

We went ourseparate ways,

but when I reachedthe train tracks

I picked up a fewrocks to throw

at the racemes oftrouble hanging

in the meadoworchard ahead.

My feet, undefinedwanderings

of a bite, were inpain

as I suspect theywill continue

to be until my timespills over.

I knew there was amystic

in the ordinary—(àla Rilke) that would carry me

(Oh Orpheussings! Oh tall tree in the ear!)

through the rest ofthe day,

like that first cupof coffee,

or a prayer said inthe

distant past.

Haiku

2011-09-26T10:25:00.000-04:00

he listen’s

to bamboo creaking overhead

harvest moon

Snorting Through His Ass

2011-09-26T10:18:00.000-04:00

Snorting Through His Ass

He is a medical student on his way to Spain

with his intestines full of plastic bags

containing cocaine. He is so good-looking,

un sol thatthought about little else except his cut.

School became unimportant, la familia didn’t matter.

There was nothing he could foresee, not even the possible

prison term in a Spanish jail: that is not going to happen.

There will not be anyconsequences if I keep calm,

cool, and collected.

But things don’t always work-out

as planned and the beads of sweat are a dead giveaway

after a six hour plane ride with your ass stuffed.

Then the “what if” one of those bags ruptures before

you pass Customs and you start feeling cold. Your heart

begins to race, suddenly you’re sweating profusely

and everything is turning around at 60 miles an hour.

You know you’re going to need a hospital, but mother

doesn’t know where you are and you’ve arrived

with a quarter of a kilo getting sucked by your intestines.

So he starts talking, begs for an ambulance

even if his medical career is over.

haiku

2011-09-25T13:14:00.000-04:00

morning news:

child hit by a stray bullet…

head wreath and veils

My Palace in the Shade

2011-09-25T13:03:00.003-04:00

My Palace in the Shade

I’ve spoken to myhands before,

whenever I’ve hadvisions

of Hitler in hellwith a hose up his rectum;

my laugh reachesnew limits.

Why—peeping throughHoffman’s camera—am I

more alive alonenow than when I am with another man?

I know people havenightmares about blood,

if not blood,roots. It’s an excuse

to keep dying, orask for the time. My palace

in the shade isfull of books packed with questions.

Is the law, copsrubbing their eyes, and its curvature,

an Americansentence? Does it have the right

syllable count?

Is it true dovesdemand they be allowed

to go to war inheaven?

I’ve become asaint. My grace has

a catheter in itsnadir.

poem

2011-09-25T12:57:00.001-04:00

head wreath and veils

child hit by a stray bullet...

morning news

wet stones

2011-09-24T12:44:00.000-04:00

wet stones

no one understands him as I do

i hear fervid winds in the stillness of his hands

no one rubbed my narrow walls as he did

we danced to death's song without any recollection ofanother life

i claim two sighs and a large garland

but if he's never to return we'll drown this grieftogether

wet stones

orbiting restless echoes in a drop of rain

What I Recall of Madness

2011-09-24T12:25:00.000-04:00

What I Recall of Madness

there were wheels, and they spun with a roar

there were sparse, but crucial moments of masochism

those made me want to end the journey with a surprise

there were blue skies, and lapses of memory

those felt like trickles of light disappearing

there were substitutes for affection

but they made me round and ordinary

there was medication,but it never seemed

to be enough

Haiku

2011-09-24T11:17:00.003-04:00

blown against one another...

the color of the sky

in autumn

poem

2011-09-23T12:40:00.002-04:00

blown against one another...
blue, the color of the sky?

at the beach

2011-09-23T10:42:00.000-04:00

Haiga

2011-09-22T16:10:00.000-04:00

feeding pigeons in Old San Juan

2011-09-22T14:59:00.000-04:00

Haiga

2011-09-22T14:40:00.002-04:00

Deleted

Hiaga

2011-09-20T15:37:00.000-04:00

deleted

dragonfly haiga

2011-09-19T13:58:00.001-04:00

dragonfly haiga, originally uploaded by saore2010.

Autumn twilight

2011-09-19T12:57:00.001-04:00

Haiku

2011-09-19T12:27:00.004-04:00

autumn twilight...
crossing the river
stone by stone

haiga

2011-09-17T13:52:00.001-04:00

haiku

2011-09-17T13:08:00.000-04:00

morning raga—

who would listen to a sparrow

chant a Ghazal

Haiku

2011-09-16T11:38:00.004-04:00

autumn rain

I collect my feelings

and turn the page

2011-09-14T19:03:00.001-04:00

roflbot picture, originally uploaded by saore2010.

This is a haiku

Haiku

2011-09-14T17:19:00.001-04:00

haiku

2011-09-14T10:57:00.003-04:00

wild flowers
begin to wither—
crying quails

photo

2011-09-13T18:43:00.001-04:00

haiku

2011-09-13T15:43:00.003-04:00

empty cemetery
junk-shop seraphs safeguard
the coke cans

haiku

2011-09-12T17:14:00.003-04:00

jugando
alrededor de tu tumba
para luego llorar

haiku

2011-09-12T16:37:00.001-04:00

vacant sky—
a cemetery angel looks
after the pebbles

haiku

2011-09-09T15:00:00.003-04:00

barefoot

crossing the river

stone by stone

haiku

2011-09-09T13:53:00.000-04:00

summer night

rain and silence

deepen

Haiku

2011-09-08T15:00:00.003-04:00

deleted

haiku

2011-09-04T16:01:00.003-04:00

pizza delivery...

he knocks on my door

just about now

Skylark

2011-09-02T15:15:00.000-04:00

Skylark

She waits for the early morning mist

to cover the valley— the flower of tranquility.

Her arms full of a timid light weight down

the air as the western stars begin to fade

into a trail of broken hearts.

haiku

2011-08-31T13:05:00.003-04:00

skylark

on a rose branch—

petals descend in whispers

dressed

2011-08-31T10:29:00.003-04:00

dressed

this is the day

the blind

view the moon

the night we bite

on silk peach petals

and walk hand

in hand into the fire

with the aroma

of coffee zigzagging

around our noses

like fine art

this is the day

of the catamaran

sailing on open sea

while we laugh

at the wind fearless

of consequence

the first day we cover

our bodies with clothes

haiku

2011-08-25T13:17:00.000-04:00

rivers flood…

taking refuge

in my bed

haiku

2011-08-25T11:12:00.002-04:00

ríos se desbordan

pero siguen las rutinas

hilo de luna

haiku

2011-08-22T12:29:00.001-04:00

hollowed gourd…
the scent of roses
lingers

Tanka

2011-08-12T09:50:00.003-04:00

the paper blades go

back a forth between sisters...

each adds a line

in their secret language

on Snow Flower's fan