Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

your young face  my point of departure, the line I follow down almost to regret laying time  on your body, motionless in sleep I'm always happy to wake you, my present late wintery day…  your whining  doesn’t sound like you but like a voice living inside other voices I mold you              but you choose your own dream, then shatter . . . if we only knew the answer I am torn                               between you and your eyes. A monologue: Does one divided by nothing equal infinity?  Published in Aha Anthology, 2012

broken hearts beautiful little children laid to rest fireflies flying brighter than the city lights

exiled from the bedroom I swallow a tear at daybreak my passion in tatters

after a few tequilas we agree to change… hunger moon cherry blossoms… a pocket full of soft stones fireflies brighter than the city lights… family reunion

embracing her cooing son— moonflowers

terminally ill a snowman melts into darkness śmiertelnie chory bałwan wtapia się w mrok Sergio Ortiz San Juan, Stany Zjednoczone Polish International Haiku Competition Commended http://polish.international.competition.haiku.pl/results.php

birthday morning.... I no longer care for this old love of death the cold angel whose ruin I learn to accept

midday nap her eyes are no longer calico where  are the butterflies?  burning summer sun rusted garbage bins recycling plastic   

holding onto a finger— the veteran smiles at his new hand

http://www.theperegrinemuse.com/PoetsInternational/sergio-ortiz/ a few of my tanka have been published at The Peregrine Muse.  I am so happy. Sergio

el Macho Camacho gunned down in his last round of sunshine (for Hector, "El Macho Camacho")

tumbleweed— leaving a trail of blood across the desert fingerprints tracing an affair of the heart Gaza  my sunrise silence  battered by rockets 

tree frogs sing under mountain stars... a dream begins seaweed the strange aroma of sunset chamomile tea I close my eyes to hear  the nightingale Benghazi at dawn... recalling a peaceful dream death poem hummingbirds outside my back porch dawn the chiaroscuro warmth of adobe     wind music a gospel singer reaches for the light moonglow my neighbor’s hand clips the bonsai the voice that was no voice spoke hurricane yellow moon a skylark’s voice over the lake

Three poems up at  Red Poppy Review

Cat’s Cradle   her wrinkled face touched by the sun

Te Deseo fin del verano... tu cuerpo joven transita   sobre mi recuerdo como un huracán en una esquina indiscreta.

XXXIX I swallow the smoke that ascends above our inaugural napkin.  Your discrete stare says, goodbye.

XXXIX I observe you. It is then I know I am alone. My shadow is your shadow and I am resigned.  

XXXVIII I am about to whisper it   when all of a sudden you turn back   and say it...  there is an empty  pillow on the bed.