on my way

flower petals ripped from every shade of purple
strip the birch from all its leaves
fill in, fill it in
pour the berries, pour the lentils, pour the avocado seeds
let the honey run
fill in, fill it in
ten pounds of gold and quartz encrusted silver
lining made of fresh spun silk
gather the garlands around the feet
long stemmed roses still spiked gather around the head
and there I lay
fill in, fill it in
then set me on fire
send me on my way

call pending

placements of decorated fruits
drying stems and wild leaves
still green but pruned skin
chipped plates with rusty spoons
fogged glasses, dirty plastic cups
stained mantle dusted with the remains of cigars

when will the call come?

cushions frayed by the edges
dried lips bitten by crooked teeth
fingers fold in the napkins
nails too short and red rimmed
stained thumbs, teeth marked pinky

when will the call come?

and then the fall rose
hidden under the carpet
rising dust gathering the humidity
upending the ready made table
why have you started to wail?
there was nothing there in the first place
what you were you really offering anyway?

and no call came but you sure packed it up nice
where will you go now?


Changing Winds

Little efforts lost in the wind
Young trees shiver as I
The little vine in a life
Loses the seeds and it’s over with
The growth of ideas
In the midst of things
And I wonder if it was all worth it

Beginning and ending
In the middle with no lines
Just gestures of confusion
And shocked at the uncovered lies
The wind sweeps up what is left
And I’m left begging
Even though I tried my best
The best keeps changing


A Horror

Should you have seen such a sight
Tears would be born in your eyes
And shutting the emotion
Would be impossible
As it all begins to come together
Piecing together a horror

Should you have seen such a sight
In the dead of night
Such hate could have filled your heart
And in brief, it would be
A memory that will always play
As your heart beats

Should you have seen such a sight
A gasp, a shudder of fright
Would creep under your skin as the night
Pieced together a scene of misery
A human being peeling off her skin

As the blood drips
And within, the pain cannot be soothed
Numb and incomplete
All because she cannot feel herself breathe
Not here, so she’d adhere to strip off her skin
Not knowing where else to begin

In This Evening of Great Regress

Left your baggage
It fills these corners
To shambles
The heart resounds inside the mourner

In this evening of great regress
towards the daylight of many regrets

Yellow sun
Dials away the mess
Son of mine lost in oblivion
Intertwine with the cries of a mother
Lost in sorrow and it sinks deep
In the eyes of those who gaze upon her
Bitterness in the lies that unravel

Left your baggage
It overflows
Your emotions taking hold
Like tentacles pushing through
Suffocating and blocking view
Sifting through each memory
Plowing on through this misery

In this evening of great regress
Come forth
And sing the song of many regrets

And I Dream

diligent hands over delicate fruit. firmly holding the handle of the knife. cutting the taut skin, wrinkling under the effort. forcing the innards to come to and descend on the plate. cubed and blended, juices squeezed out like how I left. and I’ll leave. highways and fruit stands. straw hats and summer dresses. bruja wear in the evening calling for mother, pleading with my fingers for the waves to dance for me and the moon happily ascends into my heart. and the perpetual love I craved is satiated in the winters with the warm winds coming up from the valleys…

all a dream, as I sip hot tea against the torrential rain of the city night.