Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Dame Tu Mismo

I have been swimming in air,
dipping after luxurious waltzes.
I have been breathing upside down.

Opening to You is like lilies,
like suckling at the breast.
If only I were eyes, more eyes,

and more to love You with. 

Sunday, June 14, 2015

London Burning

There may be a great fire in our hearts,
yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it,
and passers-by see only a wisp of smoke.
-Vincent Van Gogh

Behind Vincent's eyes was a vision of fire,
of London's clan-destiny, sure consummation
of towers and cobblestone, markets and monuments,

Rollicking into the sky were the spires,
cathedrals and clocks wrapped in beautiful fires,
the cries of the people igniting
a chorus of praise.



a final endeavor
that climaxed so suddenly, certainly, bloodily -
blinding the stars like the poppies
that burst on the mind with their violent



heat, fuel, and oxygen
pounding again
in a howling refrain:

this was meant to be. 

Yet somehow it chilled on the tips
of his fingers, and Vincent was never relieved;
for the paintings that haunt us,
that wound us and taunt us,
are those that we never made. 

Saturday, June 13, 2015

(Your Name Here)

I always write your name
in parentheses.
I want to protect you.
What you are is naked to the world,
it is ashamed of you,
you put it to shame.

Miss E

You stuttered words,
a sing-song muttering,
and even then you never
said my name;
"I love..." and that was all,
nattering, strapped to a lawn chair
in the sun.
I knelt before you, hand on your knee,
tea roses on your lap.