Poesia

Obsessed, inside her tenuous vignette,
longing like a child dressed in a one-piece
suit; my thoughts were like twisted violets.
I clung to her cameos like pivots
for days but was time-stopped—in a vision
she came and went, drawing wry pirouettes.

Poesia

A chaise strung by a dream,
two of them float upstream tonight;
digging their souls for might
& space to hold them tight. Sideways,

There stood the boy, incandescent and young,
thinking crooked things would again turn straight,
knowing the pain merely weighed down his tongue.

Poesia

A soundscape of whispers
spreads over the room
like a hindering wing
while I straighten my lapelle.

Poesia

and I sit there
studying the record book,
caught in a maze of incoherent chapters,
searching for a truant truth
that left no scent,
no feather,
leaving me so negligible,
not worth a clue.
y tu?

Poesia

Beneath the sun,
watching
the insides of my eyelids,
bull-teasingly red,
thoughts
grow & mellow
into a strawberry
jam.

Poesia
Merry-time mangos in hand, I’m just a guy
tracing virtues without knowing what to do.
These days are endless, sleep lost in a planner;
parts of me subvert the whole, tripping a dance.

water-flowered hair

Rain leaps from the trees,

Spring away from home

Yer blues are only beginning, black cat.
Her ears don’t catch your meowing, black cat.

With autumn’s wind, jasmine-scented hair flew;
her waving was so dismissing, black cat.

Like a St. Bernard, she sniffs out desire–
are your insides always showing, Black Cat?