Saturday, August 31, 2013

tanka art

Tanka Art

The Museum of Disappointment

The Museum of Disappointment

“Shut the door. Give me the bat if you can’t do it yourself.”
“Guadalupe, he’s only six years old.”
She takes a hit at his head, then his ribs, arms, legs.
"My God, Guadalupe, what have you done?"
“Just get him out of here—there's a dumpster on the corner."

someone follows you into
the long rain—
perhaps the child you bore
from that callous womb

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

tanka sequence

Insomnia –tanka sequence

can I fix my eyes
on the flight of birds
for answers,
or draw closer by melting
with languor

are my walls
under siege from
smaller men
who call themselves

in the throes of a nervous
the stirrings of a bird
trapped indoors

then I found Omar,
king of all comforts—
for eight years
together we rambled

where larks sang

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Saturday, August 24, 2013

Monday, August 19, 2013

A Happening by the Ocean - tanka sequence

A Happening by the Ocean

who can blame us,
we are attuned to shadows
that strafe the shore —
an osprey spins above
the trees

we guide our flock
towards the next field
with care:
the sound of a herd
moving along the basin

the leaves shift
and we fade into a pattern
of grass and shadows,
return happy and haunted
to a dark sunrise by the ocean

Sunday, August 18, 2013


a new stele with hundreds 
of names . . . 
even death will not ease
the lot of the people

Thursday, August 15, 2013


a sigh
coming from deep
within . . .
the hum

in my left ear

Monday, August 12, 2013


soy el árbol
que tiembla al disiparse 
la niebla . . .
trabajando el lenguaje
de mi silencio

tanka - For Russia with Love

a tree trembles 
after the mist has lifted . . .
I work on 
the language
of my irate silence

who will speak
these days,
if not I,
who will be the throat
of these hours      

there’s a triangular
rainbow stuck to my tongue
and it wants
to lick
your genitals 

Saturday, August 10, 2013


an hour's length 
in our noisy city 
starts with sadness 
leaves me starring 
at this empty page

Friday, August 09, 2013

Poema # 3

Poema # 3

No todos los silencios
son iguales,
no hay poemas perfectos
como la sombra . . .
En ese lago
de cerrada indiferencia
donde cruje la cama
como una bolsa
cargada de lluvia

todo fuimos talla 30.

Thursday, August 08, 2013


I can wait
longer than sadness . . .
for hours among the sweet
narcissus in my garden

Wednesday, August 07, 2013


I manage terror
by examining how things work,
count my sins
and grip your rhythm to my body
in the perfect form of stillness

Saturday, August 03, 2013


let us live 
near each other's skin. . . 
between the shadows 
and the soul

Published as TankaArt in the Summer Issue of 2013

Friday, August 02, 2013


I burn 
in the dark fire
of ambivalence
. . . suffering 
is one very long moment

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