Kategori: Poem

Confounded am I Sprays and allergies marked this of the year yet I find myself alone wondering ’bout them years before April is the cruelest month Elliot sayeth I mistrust This lovely February weather 2019 the sun shines the birds chirp I find but confusion as the sun starts the thaw so early these seasons…

今天 · 霜降 Frost scrapers noise invaded my realm as I tried to decipher what the early morning drew before my somnolent ears. Later That afternoon: The air was icy fresh The water cold as ice The silentwind bore small Shiny white flakes borne out of the cold snap, nippy goosebumps Halffrozenwaterdrops heightened the lush…

They say the rings in a tree tell a story I wonder what my wrinkles say I look at my fingers rings and dry cracks in my skin appear through a certain light I shy from speculation since everything changes what matters if I interpret them isn’t what I think apt for interpretation? yet I…

All day I spent feeling Friday the 13th it was an ominous day something bad is to happen yet every day something bad happens this time it felt specifically aimed at me mass hysteria though the winds rocked the yellowed leaves of the branch trees doomed to decry the fall whilst the gray clouds floated…

In my blood runs Tijuas Caló Whether Espanglish Or Spanglish Them beats Pound dirt flesh Like a Smith Hierro Fierro A fuego Con ritmos turiquean y parlan netas a madrazos en el anvil We knew before thee gíüiri gíüiri wordsmith con fierro y a filerazos de la punta de la lengua Wacha Wachatelas compa Agíüigíüi…

hace viento sé el follaje mece a su merced corre por ái un dicho sobre quién mece a los arboles yo quizá pero no cuando llueve las hojas frondosas de la primavera acumulan agua solo para hacer llover de nuevo la gente se cree a salvo de la pausa y es cuando el árbol nos…

the nihilist virus wants to renew itself forever it wants a life and an imagination to last a lifetime to reinvent itself to gut till it tires alloveragain ceaselessly a joy bug who pukes in delight .

Mis huesos Vivieron En el Valle Hasta el cansancio Y La Voz del Pueblo Esquiniaba Contra Kawuila De a buche Habrí­a que pedirlos Para poder saborear Bien las 2am y wachar El farol de luces Recaer sobre las costras De mugre que soltaban olores justos para wacarear aquel walk of shame soltar cacharpas a la…