Showing posts from September, 2015

the way my cat purrs tanka

sometimes the way my cat purrs  reminds me of you… I pay more attention to the rain on those days

Nocturne tanka sequence

Nocturne I'm sad yet my eyes don't shed tears my gaze has drifted to the quiet end of the park my love is distant and my fatigued soul joins the mist of dreams… monotonous winter twilight waiting for spring the stars are sad, yet my ears vibrate to the expression of love... I'm horrified to find I am alone

my love is far tanka

my love is far and my fatigued soul joins  the mist of dreams monotonous winter twilight waithing for spring

I am sad tanka

I am sad  yet my eyes don't shed tears  my serene gaze is lost in the quiet end of the park

the scent of jasmine tanka

how sad is the scent of jasmine... I dive closer to time, eyes heavy with nostalgia

caribbean bliss

caribbean bliss… if you’re hurting, lay it all on me, would you spend your life with me?

daybreak tanka

daybreak... magenta clouds cover the morning sky I miss you but I don’t know why

the stars begin to gather tanka

the stars begin to gather... I run but for you I want to stay

if I risk it all tanka

you are everything to me if I risk it all could you break my fall?

palms rustle tanka

palms rustle... the bird secretly carries his likeness in her heart though they’ve never met

sonatas in arabesques tanka

sonatas  in arabesque... a rattle of the mind you do not hear

blood moon tanka

I wait for the blood moon to rise… my chains are managed by the Keeper

the search is on tanka

the search is on… the phoenix rises again there is water in his eyes, fire and a death song on my lips

War Zone tanka sequence

dancing boys of Afghanistan lift the air-- on my notebook watercolors splash like tears the first time I went hungry father tossed my food-- I carved the stone of starvation with water I was twelve when father sold me to a warlord … you cannot read loss only feel it* a broken heart never fully heals  yet my universe will not turn  into  a mighty stranger* *from Memoirs of a Geisha *from  Wuthering Heights 

a broken heart

a broken heart never heals properly... my universe has turned into a mighty stranger

someday tanka

someday I will be a grown man... mockery and isolation will not stop me

I was twelve tanka

I was twelve when he sold me to a warlord you cannot read loss only feel it

one day tanka

one day  there will be no leaves  left on my tree this is a slow death where nothing remains

first time I went hungry tanka

the first time I went hungry father tossed my food-- I carved the stone of starvation with water

dancing boys of Afghanistan tanka Bacha bāzī a terrible pedophile practice

dancing boys  of Afghanistan  lift the air--  on my notebook  watercolors splash like tears

I lie on the grass broken tanka

I lie  on the grass  broken kneeling before you in the rain

love never hurt so good tanka

love never hurt so good it's too long before I'm back in your arms in a trance

to those who matter tanka

to those  who matter so much...  from where  is love to come  if not from raindrops

where is the music now tanka

where  is the music now on the shores  of Lesbos?   where are my children? 

death boat to Lesbos haiku

death boat to Lesbos illegal push backs

humanity haiku

humanity washed ashore agony in color

Labrinth - Jealous


warm English morning tanka

warm English morning my lover bids me wear his cufflinks… I brush his cheeks with a four-leaf clover

Haiku inspired by a poem from Issa

this world is but a dewdrop... dead sparrow

LA ESPERA Y YO Por Sergio Ortiz

LA ESPERA Y YO Por Sergio Ortiz Llamar al viento allá donde no habita la nostalgia, ni solloza el adiós de un amor moribundo. Donde soy el reflejo de la soledad  Quiero, irme perdiendo en la callada distancia de la nada. Llegar con luz, hilando fino y sin planear, soltando amarras, sin que los ardores de este cuerpo me devoren,                                                          allá yo, allá voy… Empezando a darme cuenta que no siento nada al escuchar tu nombre pasearse como un reptil sin cola por mi diáfana mañana. Eres despojo de infancias, el intermedio arbitrario de un pasado cauterizado con la luz del vientre de mi madre. llevé mi piel a la cama con él y mi piel fue su cama… se ocultó de la luz en todos mis rincones Los Afortunados – Vietnam, 30 de Abril, 1975 En aquellos días íb