Falfafel of those who left

The falafel of those who left
is richer with their loss
than it is with olive oil

girls on the side of the road

To the girls left on the side road

that I cannot help

I cannot even pretend

to know how you feel

this flesh, like a leaf

A strip down
like a leaf left over
like meat, this flesh

a quick ride

The roller-coaster

tugs so high to sink again 

that's love, I hear you say

observations

From the sky, it all looks small
especially humans, like tiny ants
the ego dissipates

When I'm sick

When I'm sick
my mind is at its sharpest in math

calculating distances without touching
 on the times I shivered like a leaf

near the black board with the thought
that a pit of numbers will take me down

my dreams are different now
they are closer to touch

salty on my tongue
yet it remains a sharp brain in math

and a poor lung.

if all of this fighting went to rest

If all of this fighting went to rest,
he asks, face twisted like three branches loose
where would we bury newly minted weapons?

repetition, creation, repetition

The will to create
evaporates
with banality of repetition

Fear of force

I fear
the force that causes
death by inconveniences.

ask and you will be answered

This is the fundamental lie
that questioning leads to an answer
maybe it is not that great, the answer
that arrives.

a challenge

Put in to paper
he asked
a challenge in words

recycling

reuse, the minute because it doesn't come back
reuse, the things you'd throw to others to handle your burdens
reuse, the power of the muscles on a human body
reuse, the weight of a summer's sun on your skin
reuse, the way you turn around to the sound
reuse, the births and deaths of hope
reuse, the purpose you've made for yourself, revised
reuse, the minute of eliminating burdens.

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.

Dream

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

stress

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 

an almost knocked over glass

Almost knocked over the glass
in anger
these hands

as I wait for an official paper

I wait behind the desk
as a starving cat jumps
into a void trashcan

late poems, as per normal

it feels like a chore
this
late poetry

with driftwood

We drift, each talking at a higher wavelength
call this another form of love
I call it another form of painting with blood
we call this a family swayed with driftwood

I am waiting

A vacuum in time
heavy feet continue to pace
the same small space that becomes more familiar
while we wait