pace, day break

On the break of day

A daily, long  line of papers fly

at the perfect pace

Desolate rain

Desolate  rain

A menacing fox walks

covered by a box

The horses of Bruges

The horses of Bruges
tell a long story
of a lost princess who chased the geese

Doodles, peace

Doodles on the paper
this is how the artist
lets go of the tension

Snowy trees remind me of sparkles

On her nails, the sparkles
glisten like a tree
left in the snow all night

Smells like Christmas

It smells like Christmas in my kitchen,
smells like the time I stopped
in the heart of the house

right in the middle like a clot
not moving nor let anyone move
to make Christmas over cold stoves

here is a list of things you need for cake
that serves 6, realistically
even if you are on your own:

* peeled apples
* 3/4 sugar
* flour
* cinnamon
* nutmeg
* salt (to taste)

I stand on a flat corner
kneading the flour
needing a listening ear

I stand in the corner
in my house,
shaking like a belly dancer after a long show
cupping powdered sugar to an empty heart

He is born

Rest assured, for He has been born 

the one who created heaven and earth 

the one who saves heaven from this earth.

an aerial view of loneliness

There you are 

standing tall like an elm 

overseeing the crowds, like from a plane 

an aerial view of loneliness 

Elephants

Nothing more regal than an elephant
another sign for torture,
for others to be happy.

observations

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

A wedding, unnecessary

There's an air that surrounds you
when you sit wrapping the night like a shawl

- that there have been silver linings, yours copper
- that there are smiles and expressions of love, yours void
- that there is another way to pick roses, yours is to plant
- that there are memories made between the laughs, your phone saves coversation
- that there is a new beggining

the night, cold wraps itself around your shoulders
when at the wedding you sit to think
of different ways to spell love
without slashing your wrists open by its glass.

Fear and fire

Like a wildfire, it will eat up with its arms
all the sides of yourself you were keeping safe
this fear

Things to do with anger 3

of the things you can do with your anger
is stop answering the phone, hang it up
with its own chords to choke away the noise
of the requests lining up on your door.

one hundred and two years old

one hundred and two years old
we are turned away from the face of the fire

by virtue of one document
oh, how important is paper to this land

taken out of the roots of its olives
splashed with the ink of hundreds tears

black as the day we were signed off
a place for no one, left for everyone

this is the fate of nations
for their kindness, a blow on the head

an increased hundred and two
years of pain washed out with sea-salt.

going back home

I am finally back 

you write to me 

I slip between sleep 

and waking to ask you 

what has been the most apparent 

difference you've seen over 

my body, the trees or the clear skies 

I hear you say 

the air, its different

smells like my childhood and your perfume. 

things to do with anger 2

of the things you can do with your anger
is stand atop of a mountain and shout it out
hoping that the echo doesn't just
bring it all back.

Things to do with anger 1

of the things you can do with your anger 

is make a ball of paper 

throw it out in the nearest bin 

Chores

The pan's lifted out of the fire
no burnt, the food filling stomachs

the sheets dry with the tinge
of the sweat that lined them for days

the boots all sparkling clear
of the dusk walked over in the streets

there is so much order in the house
where does this silence come from, then?

wearing pain in a disguise

Three blows and a pinch
on the cheek

you still think
your hand is kind

wearing pain in a disguise

repetition, creation, repetition

The will to create
evaporates
with banality of repetition