Wednesday, October 6, 2021

Where We Had Come From

We lost track of ourselves in the desert
slowly becoming invisible
under the warm light
of the sun and the stars.

For years, we had traveled the blue roads
creating new dreams each day and each night
pulling poems from red arching rocks,
from steep peaks of purple and forgotten giants.

We came to realize
that it would all disappear
all that we knew,
even our bones
even our dreams.

The many unanswered questions multiplied,
piling on top of each other like leaves
like dust on old memories
photos stored in tiny boxes.

We tried to imagine the stories
which would emerge from the chaos,
tried to hold on to the signal
that seemed eager to float away
to leave with the fading light.

We were whole for one moment
one brief instant caught and held in a passing blink.
For a flash we saw
and we sent out what we saw
out on the night breeze
hoping it would become a song,
a dream, a painting, a map;
far away from the big desert,
under the warm light
of the sun and the stars.

Our project unraveled,
and brought us back where we had come from,
back to the very start
where there was only black chaos
and blinking sparks that came from the darkness
and went nowhere.

Then I stripped naked and danced.
That was all that was left
for me to do.
To dance freely
one last time,
under the warm light
of the sun and the stars.

Tuesday, August 3, 2021

The Whole and the Chaos

The Whole eventually emerged from the Chaos
And it came out naked and bright
And slippery.
It was built on poems and manifestos
a blend of colorful paint
and crumbled balls of newspaper.
I stood far away
And I watched it moving
somewhere in my mind.
I felt the breeze of its movement
And I heard the sound
of rustling leaves overhead
and I felt my heart beating
more and more slowly.
Chaos slipped back into the shadows
like a wave that slides back into the ocean.
I could sense its low hum,
I could feel the crackling of its low song.
And the Whole grew bigger
brighter as it moved,
pulling in more and more words
lines of poems danced around it
forming rings so large they sprouted hurricanes
and all the cities were drenched,
pounded by drops of thought
and walls of words
and they were all made new again
and slippery
almost naked again as they once were
in their gray color.

Sunday, May 30, 2021

Sin Together

I who think
I am a creature of the solid world,
a shadow without a final shape
a blurry wave in the night
given form
through the dark art of succession.

I have slowly chipped at the map,
the map I was given
the map I didn’t create
and I have blurred the lines-
what has no lines around it
cannot be defined.
It becomes a language without words
and changes its shape recurrently
and dissolves into the dream.

It is Tuesday morning
and there is a curvature on the wind.
The sidewalk ends and we lock eyes.
I have seen her before
But not like this.
There is a sound somewhere
and then there is white, and then blue.

I do not assume the triangle.
I do not assume a body or a breath.
We fly simultaneously,
breathing in a response to each other
that which is not yours
is mine.

It is Wednesday night
I hear her footsteps
coming towards me.
The door of my room opens
and I jump towards it
I scream in the darkness
and she throws herself on top of me.
She is heavy on me
but not so heavy-
I could push her away
If I really tried.
But I don’t try.

I know it is her
so I stay where I am

The road we travel
begins somewhere beyond the doorway
and once on it, it is difficult to return.
We have sinned together
Sinned against the rules of the surface,
Sinned against the most fundamental laws.
We now move like silk waves in a lightning storm.
Only the mad know they have sinned
and we just dance

Then I have a thought.
I have never seen her tonight.
I don’t really know if it is her
All I know is a shadow in the darkness.
I feel as if she is biting me
through the sheets.
I offer some resistance,
I try to get up,
I push with all my strength.

I who think
have found a new center of gravity
a center in the storm
a storm in the dream.
And what is not hers
is mine
And what is not mine
is hers.

Wednesday, May 5, 2021



I saw the main stairway of the old house
But it was closed, cancelled
The stairs continued into the lower darkness
into some kind of forbidden basement
a place I had never seen or been aware of.
This place was also closed, cancelled.

I looked downwards
Into the darkness
And I saw
Or imagined I saw
an awakened eye
which was my own.

I went to my room upstairs
it was more like a small apartment than a room
With a living room, a bathroom, a bedroom.
And on the white wall,
The one that faced the street
I saw
a single colored teardrop
seemingly fresh and alive.
Then I heard a loud noise
and the tear splattered
all over the white wall.

I spent some time
making sure all the doors were closed and locked
I was certain there were other people close by
Wandering around the house.
I had some trouble locking all the doors
since I wasn’t sure
where they were all located.

In the middle of rushing around
closing and locking everything
I heard a sound
That I somewhat recognized as my name
Then I heard it again
And I just heard it as a word
A word without a meaning known to me.

I walked down a long hall
Surrounded by gardens of grass and stone.
I could see other gardens in the distance
I saw a group of children
Led by two or three adults
They were all carrying candles
And raising them above their heads.

The man who was in charge approached me.
He talked to me as if he knew who I was
And why I was there.
“It’s a beautiful house…”
He said.
And I responded:
“Yes, it really is..
But it’s a bit dangerous…
Specially for kids.”
I was thinking of so many levels,
So many ways to fall.
He said:
“It’s ok.
As long as you keep your eye on them.”

Then the children came to me
And carried me like a precious jewel.
I became pink and new,
With a touch of purple
Maybe brown or light blue
Always on the verge of crying.

Tuesday, January 19, 2021

Pillow of Darkness


I lay on a pillow of darkness
Pure black
Except for the tiny flecks of light
Moving in random patterns
I imagine intersecting lines
at 35-degree angles from each other.
they fade intermittently
and form other shapes
I cannot remember the shapes
I cannot describe them
I feel as if I disappear.
perhaps for a few moments
perhaps forever.
I become invisible
a thing that was
but is no more.
I hate the graveyards
the long lines of tombstones
lawns overgrown with weeds
decaying presents for the dead,
weathered teddy bears and deflated balloons.
I hate the roses left to decompose in the sun,
To be later thrown in metal dumpsters
like forgotten dreams
unspoken conversations.
I hate all of it.
the sales people
the ground crew men in dirty pants
the people looking for solace amongst quiet bones.
i want freedom
I want to slide into oblivion like the other nameless souls
come and now gone.
Will anyone find our music
our words
our small attempts at transformation?
I lay on a pillow of darkness
floating somewhere between ocean and desert
between hot and cold
between life and death
The desert now blooms with newfound moisture,
purple flowers and panting lizards,
mermaid clouds.
The oceans begin to sing,
singing of sun trees and orange fruit that drip with sugar,
forming puddles
lakes and creatures that would become myths
and great dreams and nightmares.
I will become nameless
i will descend into the chaos I came from.
Into the blood,
the dirt,
the blackness
the specks of light in strange patterns
the nothingness that somehow becomes something.
Out of the chaos I am whole
for a moment,
such a short moment.
I am a sentence,
a name,
two sentences and then another,
and then one year, and then another.
I emerge from rough ideas
and soft kisses
from pain and chaos
from dirt and blood
from stories that were lost by people I never met
from stories that may be told long after I’m gone
I am all the people that are now lost,
buried in the blackness
in the darkness
in the soil that made me,
the waves that quenched me
the sun which fed me,
the same sun which crushed and bruised
and landed on my lips
that touched my eyes
and made me whole,
the sun that pulled me out of the darkness
for a moment,
such a short moment.


Tuesday, June 9, 2020

The Climb

We eventually dug our way out of the tunnel. It was bound to happen sooner or later. If we worked hard enough, we were bound to be successful. We had talked about it long enough. We had dreamt about it for so many nights that were like days, and we had sung about quietly during the days that were dark.
One night we clawed through all the muddled dreams, through the bright geometric nightmares, through unspeakably complex puzzles all made of dirt and branches and dust. And we did it with our own hands and we did it with our own voices and with our newfound language which easily disturbed and broke apart the thick walls of our established identities that had turned into heavy pieces of rock.

I could feel the heavy force of gravity the entire time – pulling us down, down, down. I saw old symbols carved into the walls as we passed by and kept on moving and many times I slipped on the outstretched forms of a few equations and algorithms for which I had no understanding or explanation.

Something may have helped us along the way, something that sometimes pulled us up, something leading us along through barely visible silver threads. But it had no name and it had no voice so we would never speak of it and we couldn’t have said anything about it even if we wanted to speak. We would never acknowledge its presence even among ourselves.

Our improvised songs travelled out ahead of us like guides, then came back as echoes and told us of the future. We wouldn’t let any force stop us. Not fear, not hunger, not exhaustion. Nothing would pull us back, we wouldn’t let anything pull us back down. Sometimes when I looked ahead I saw the same nothing staring back at me, nothing behind, nothing ahead, nothing below us, nothing above. But I kept on digging, and I kept on singing and I kept on speaking.

I awoke on the other side, naked and red with blood and bruises, encircled by cold and darkness. Bubbles clung to my skin, and the past dissolved behind us in a black puddle.

We all walked away in different directions then and I never saw any of them again. I never even tried to search for them. When I think of them now, they have no faces and they have no names. I am not even sure that they ever existed at all.

Friday, March 27, 2020

The Quince Tree

The quince tree stood in the distance,
at the edge of the dreaming desert.
It stood illuminated in the moonlight,
And its fruit glowed from within
like tiny candles in the night.
All around the tree
the ground was dry and cracked and cool.

I had become invisible to those that once knew me.
I had disappeared into the hot nothingness long ago,
into the dry wind of blue and yellow.
I was brittle now, but I was also an explorer.
I would hitchhike on the edge of sentences,
and merge distant worlds for a moment in the dark.
No one knew I was there.

On the edge of the dreaming desert,
I remembered a children's song from long ago:
little darling fruit
you make the perfect pie
I wrap you up in sugar
and let out a little cry.
Little darling fruit.

I was alone now,
a lone dreamer within a vast dream.
The silver light lit the desert floor,
alive with tiny creatures of the night.
The dark leaves shook,
the fruit on the quince tree dangled restlessly.
I felt fear hiding in my body,
in the void explored in sleep,
in the places where words hung suspended
like fruit in the moonlight.

I knew that all the secrets were everywhere,
In every direction
around every corner
all around me
all the time.
So I rubbed by naked body against the bark,
and I lay on the ground.
I closed my eyes and
I was still in the nothing.
Then I felt the invitation
and I let a response emerge
from my mouth.

Two ancient species spoke that night,
And they made a connection
at the edge of the silver light.
I would never be alone again.