Hope

Seeing or no seeing / the orange tree blossoms / regardless

The Morning After

The earth remains

spinning on its axis

and I am alone,

unmoved by this.

The stains on my sheets

are worth more than words.

Your glass of wine

Half empty.

Un Beso Del Fuego

Walking softly through the streets of reflection,

I find you everywhere

like the noonday sun

that squeezes itself

into every dusty, darkened corner,

bathing everything in glorious light.

I taste you

in the fleshy fruit of the guayaba

that melts as slowly

as your kisses

in my mouth –

your eyes that explode in sunlight,

your humid, fluid voice,

the soft oceanic touch of your fingertips.

Only In Your Eyes

Your eyes are fragile enough

to catch heaven half undressed,

blessed with the scent of sugar cane,

your body melts around mine

as quickly as sea spray

glazing sweaty rocks.

What music could capture

our own mysterious melody

that drops like rain

and shines as powerful

as the green surrounding us now?

Our lips meet violently

in ferocious waves

and your frantic kisses

burn skin like the heat

reflected in the eye

of the tropic sun.

As I throw myself to your parting shores,

my soul rests in you

as confident as the lone sea bird

returning from blue wonders

of oceanic depth.

Mother’s Day

The night slowly closes its eyes

and dreams only of the moon

and forgets the sun

that gave it life.

The Sun in a Wheelchair

I went to a nursing home to visit her.

Once the pride of the summer sky,

now collapsed in a heap of formless fire.

Body barely contained in a wheelchair,

flames of fire slipping down the spine of her chair,

catching fire to her orthopedic shoes.

She gripped my hand whispered that she was tired.

“I want you to forget me,” she said,

“go tell the rest of the world that I sleep.”

Knowing her words were poison,

I ran to the mountain

and spat venomous joy at the foot of her fountain.

“The sun is dying!” I screamed to no-one

and quickly ran away to join in the false security

of the rest of the land.

My voice buried in the crags of the mountain.

Speech robbed from the sweat of the sun.

I no longer live to speak.

My words a gurgle of thought in the throat.

And now as I lie

under the pregnant rind of the summer moon,

life shuts her shallow eyes,

closes her curtains

and I wink! Goodbye!

Eyes of Chance

I am waiting

waiting with bulging eyes

that want to devour the human race

to drive my dagger deep

into the eyes of chance.

Her eyes once met mine

and were sealed in a solid bond of trust.

The crystallization of the world

Revealed in those sweet eyes

Left me blushing

In the floodlights of her gaze.

Naturally,

her kisses soon flew

from the balcony

on the crowds below

as they marched on

confident pigeons

on nameless streets

glazed with rain.

With one eye relaxed on the window,

the other fixed on the door,

I am still waiting…

waiting to drive my dagger deep

into the eyes of chance.