Monday, December 30, 2013

my mother 
passed away that March—
a loon 
followed me down 
the curved river road

Friday, December 27, 2013

little blue mirror
naked white river face
that turns black
when night seeps
into your bed

Monday, December 23, 2013

Where do children play?

Where do children play?

Their names carved in the keel
of the vessel in which they travel;
their margins, our boundaries,
their songs, pushed to the center
of what matters in our fallible and
sensitive lives, seeking responses
to the unknown.  Position yourselves
next to the mystery of their music.
Where do children play?
In time . . . that abstract glimmer
that does not bond to anything; 
the school of a submissive homeland?

Para los maestros Puertorriqueños en su lucha por un retiro digno.

¿Dónde jugarán los niños?

Sus nombres labrados en la quilla
de la nave en que viajan.
Sus márgenes, orlas de un confín.
Sus canciones, clavadas al centro
de lo que importa en nuestras falibles y
minúsculas vidas, en busca de respuestas
frente a lo desconocido. Ubícate al lado
del misterio de su música.
¿Dónde jugarán los niños?
¿En el tiempo, fulgor abstracto,
inasible? ¿En la patria sumisa?

Sunday, December 22, 2013

A Poem for Uganda: Our Wealth

A Poem for Uganda:  Our Wealth

It is now illegal to be a homosexual in Uganda.   We went underground to escape the mist of colonialism.  I take off your shirt to tattoo a prism, a machine gun, and a dove dripping blood from its heart.  

be a rainbow
in the gale of life
of heavily-lidded eyes
on the battlefield

“Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable.”* Do not answer that middle-of-the-night-knocking at your door without resistance.  We are no longer children of the half-light.

artless fog
man-on-man smithereens
in a moment 
black-on-black blemish
without a purpose

·         John F. Kennedy

Saturday, December 21, 2013

cold air
fills the city
spring is at the end
of a line where lovers search
for joy like peacocks 

Published in The NeverEnding Story

One Man's Maple Moon: Map Tanka by Sergio Ortiz
English Original

if my life were a map
it would be one of a man
in the snow…      
picking mushrooms
at the edge of dread

Lynx, 28:2, June 2013

Sergio Ortiz

Chinese Translation (Traditional)

在雪地裡 ...

Chinese Translation (Simplified)

在雪地里 ...
never mind
the sting of winter solstice
warm-blooded love
we felt it on the divan
and in the ballroom

Friday, December 20, 2013

Published in the second issue of BAMBOO HUT

an hour’s length
in our noisy city starts
with sadness
and leaves in its wake

Thursday, December 19, 2013

a heron,
bluer than the lips
of Lazarus,
awakens to the harsh cry
of a jealous sea

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

I dance on my heart
when stars are spaced
so far apart
that doors opened to lovers
close around them like a book 

Monday, December 16, 2013

accepted for a competition

The poem was accepted for a competition and had to be taken down.  Sorry!

Saturday, December 14, 2013



que no se desprende
de mis manos—
entre flor y canto,
rosa y viento, logramos vivir

existiendo en ambos lados
de una frontera—
las primeras campanadas al alba
en una aldea silenciosa

siempre me halle
en el limbo de las palabras perdidas
el murmullo
cimbró la tierra insular
y fui aires del pasado

que descienden
a nuestras zonas dolorosas
colocando a un lado
la miseria,
la ternura y la violencia

Friday, December 13, 2013

Thursday, December 12, 2013

Woolies and Soweto Gospel Choir: Madiba Tribute

Asimbonanga (We have not seen him)
Asimbonang' uMandela thina (We have not seen Mandela)
Laph'ekhona (In the place where he is)
Laph'ehleli khona (In the place where he is kept)

Oh the sea is cold and the sky is grey
Look across the Island into the Bay
We are all islands till comes the day
We cross the burning water


A seagull wings across the sea
Broken silence is what I dream
Who has the words to close the distance
Between you and me


Steve Biko, Victoria Mxenge
Neil Aggett
Asimbonang 'umfowethu thina (we have not seen our brother)
Laph'ekhona (In the place where he is)
Laph'wafela khona (In the place where he died)
Hey wena (Hey you!)
Hey wena nawe (Hey you and you as well)
Siyofika nini la' siyakhona (When will we arrive at our destination)


held in ice
as dancers in a spell
leaves that fell
on frozen over lakes—
New-year bells bicker with the snow


watching him sleep
in long alleys over a wild
I assume I’ve discovered
the secret of life

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

he soiled
his bushy muse
with sequins—
he ordered in a trick
and called it dial-a-dick

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

we empty
the dark in the dark . . .
someone finds by mistake
a need fulfilled

Monday, December 09, 2013

he knew
how to touch fire
and leave
unharmed . . . I knew
how to open every door

Sunday, December 08, 2013

we have rituals
of regret, boys sent back
home in body bags . . .
we lie down in meadows
and leave behind their corpses

Saturday, December 07, 2013

as the flight of birds
endless streams
and mountains—


Friday, December 06, 2013

Mandela 1918-2013

a quiet exit
Nelson Mandela—
from a prison rock quarry
to the presidential suite 

Thursday, December 05, 2013


Sergio Ortiz

Wednesday, December 04, 2013

Tuesday, December 03, 2013

Me publican en Mexico

Me publicaron unas poesías en una revista literaria Mexicana;  CUADRIVIO

Tu sexo

Extraño tu sexo ciñéndose
a mi lengua.

Amo tu racimo de sudores

la gota de coñac que resbala
por tu muslo
con la indiferencia de una nube
que se aleja.

Amo tus claras humedades:
las de tu esperma tramposa
las de tus ojos lacrimosos.

Mi silencio con sus fauces
te rodea.

Monday, December 02, 2013


I trust that horses
run through vast canyons
though I watch
through the window
with small flutters of fear

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