Monday, August 27, 2018

The girl behind the camera

The girl behind the camera
is the one seeing you
not seeing her

it hurts to see the stars
yet only feel their glow from afar

After the music, bodies

Your body, left like yesterday's clothes
old music, neither indie nor popular
some form of a symphony that bridges 
the space left on the bed

Dream ciphered

How this, I can see it clearly,
your arm, warm and hairy wrapped around my shoulder

I know it is wrong
the feeling that comes without my awakening

even with closed eyes
I can tell another woman's ring is on your finger

I don't budge
I don't open my eyes

instead I turn to look at your face
its details crafting a new explanation

to the term between the sheets
to synonyms to making love

an orgasm for the lonely times
without feeling the pangs

a throbbing of a definite sin
on a last day of fasting

but in the dream world
coded as in I want you

as in I need you
as in let me touch your body

or allow yourself to touch me once
again, even if I am sleeping

in my sleep.

a writing in the head

How frustrating
is the process of writing
something that you cannot hear in your head

Peace with a native tongue

The horse in me stopped fighting
for a greener pasture
made peace with the rye around because it was always home.

Modern friendship

yourself open, like a walnut shell
you still dance in the shadow
become a hazy memory that calls nothing for glory.

& pride

That I step behind you when I could have stepped beside you
that I learn to look at the same things you see with an extended pair of eyes
that I take myself away from the floor and give you the dance
that I compensate of speechless moments with time
then call it a change of energy and something like love and power
packed in a cloud

Monday, August 20, 2018

Grandpa on the chair

Like a guard lion I sit
near the window that looks out
you sit before me on the street
holding all the dignity in the crook of your arms

little fingers over the pedals and you roll
into the direction that goes outward
there are chairs that have been made for us
to wear them even if they fall upon us

but he was steady, the mark of youth
sitting directly like a carried gift
a boy in your lap, yellow haired
smiling as you carried him

like a vessel sailing toward the sea
you move swiftly enchantment
against a wind that rejects your bones
this is the love of a grandparent, it lifts outside of the waves.

like a diplomat, lover

You speak with the mystery
of a diplomat
because I don't complete your circle.

Scout girl in uniform

Girl scout in uniform
beret in hand, smaller than half my waist

lifts her head up, demands
a treatment that is fair to her

despite the lack of fair skin
long hair, night-dark

a mother behind her, makes a scene
with her projected speeches

about respect. I wonder
when will I be able to raise a woman

of steel and feather
able to love and break as equally

as two sides of a coin
a woman unlike me

that has no bother with the things
left behind sunny days

this is the effect of one girl scout
asking for a glass of water to quench my thirst.

demanding parentage

Hard as stone
her demands, I complain to the wind
it hears me back with a song
she's your mother, isn't she? 

Sunday, August 19, 2018

a battle against tongues

I feel like I am running a battle against tongues
one my mother gave me that contains
enough expressions to make possible, life
with the others I have gained along the way

collecting like star-dust
meaning, word after word to make sense
of other ways to say the same things
but with gentleness, with vigor, with insanity

I feel like I am running a battle against tongues
that get out of the way when I love
because I lose language in seconds
before I fall

stammering at my basic ABCs
that are replaced by music,
butterflies and somber lyrics
one I call softness

I feel like I am running a battle against tongues
as one leaps to the front at the very minute I push it backwards
biting down on sailor language, wrong adjectives
in fear of the sharp blade it has

making peace in a battle is impossible
but living like siblings has proved a good use
for you cannot hate on your own blood
even if it flows through different veins.


I hold no awakening
the minute you catch a sun
as it falls in my head in sleep


the weight on your chest grows
by the number of years you add

subtract the way the world moves
outside of you

trees, clouds and the stars as they align
the plans you make and keep denying yourself the chance

to make come true
this weight on your shoulders

these long nights
these thoughts that belong to humanity

coming back only to find you
lying on your back, breathing slowly

once more 

haikus for an uneventful evening

A hazy evening
a mad hairy dog moves
like wind melting chocolates

what does it mean to not hold a destiny?

it meas another definition
of the verb roll

like throw carelessly into the pit
where you cannot see the end

this is what it means to not hold a destiny
said the beggar who sits on the doorstep


distraction is the gift of those
who are willing to buy time
to save themselves

Wednesday, August 15, 2018

at a party, your voice

at a party
your voice follows me
the falafels are present
you scream loudly
like I would hear you,
over all the versions of music

facing fear

like the start of a new month
like standing on a high tower
this is how we face fear

with a head that's never ready
with a heart that's careless