No Cheese

I feel the same, a sweet pain somewhere between my stomach and the cloud that is hanging there above the power lines. I feel the same, my feet don’t touch the floor when I walk. I feel the same, but I express it differently. My feelings are prolifically tender, yet quirky and surreal at times. I require a metaphor or a simile. I look for something contempoetic. I look for austere and haikuesque words. I think the moon is out again, but whether it's full or the eclipse colored it red, it does not matter if you are in Denver.

The mouse is a reversible elephant

If you reverse an elephant, a mouse.

If you supercharge a mouse, an elephant.

Both exist in the same universe at the same time within a bag of dreams that heals the world of mice & elephants. Each dream is a prayer for memory. Every elephant remembers the name of their mother and father. Every mouse forgets the name of their brother and sister. Sometimes I forget the names to remember. Sometimes the spirits remember the names of healers who fill their pockets with men.

One Day

One day, when all the leprechauns

come out of their holes

and compete in the magic poem tournament

I will finally meet my blind cyclop

with full delicious kissable lips


And the sky will erupt in a multicolor display

of orange and purple water crystals

yet behind the rainbow

a shoe will dangle from a tie-dyed tie

and if it fits

it will fit

Open Wounds

    Before Don Dehoracio died, he used to drag his feet, mincing his steps like he was wearing a geisha dress, to avoid bumping into things. He was going blind. This is how my mother remembers him; old, fat, blind, scratching his slippers on the wooden floor, making a “swish, shush” sound as he pushed and dragged his feet. Don Dehoracio was married to my mom’s Tia Julia. Tia Julia adopted my mother when my mom’s father, who was Tia Julia’s brother, died, leaving my grandmother Ana destitute. Grandma Ana lived in a little farm-town outside the city.  She visited my mother occasionally and at every occasion, my mother begged my grandmother to take her with her. Grandma never did take her away; offering the same reply as always, that Aunt Julia could give her a better life. I can’t imagine my mother begging, she’s [...]

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In the Rye, Not Caught

It was you who showed me

how to drink wine from my

palms. It was you

who threw me in the rye with

no promises

            that I will be

                        caught or


from the rain. We stood

always parallel to each other, throwing

stones into the future as the

guttural voice of the sea jazzed out

the silence of your eyes. We had

my summer and

            your smile and

                        your room to spend but we left

            blank traces of rain





like the sea gull song is

the memory of you gone. The smell of your

records of Armstrong, your

            words after sunset, your

                        famished sea eyes


                        through centuries of

moments, leaving you

gone. Yet I still have

the wind you left in my hair with

obstinate fingers, shelled in.

And [...]

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Hakuna Matata

If your flesh was lacking sex,

But your lust had gone astray,

If your taste buds lost their cravings,

Restaurants eradicated, daily pills on a tray,

No toilets to visit, no garbage to collect.


If you could beam yourself from here to there,

No muscles to move. No pain, no sweat.

If we all looked alike, potato heads multiplied,

Cotton uniforms for everyone, fashion decimated.


If money had all burned, gold melted away,

Greed besieged and not a shirt to call your own.

If machines would run your errands,

Solve annoying little problems.


If you lived to three times hundred,

Heal yourself with algorithms,

If your mind could only talk,

And hear other people’s thoughts.


If you knew what is to know,

Write like Shakespeare, think like Einstein,

No questions to ask – no degrees to pursue.

Then who would you [...]

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B a l c o nies

Balconies are places where dreams

fly out of rusted food cans

suddenly fresh

cooled down by the

sting of night air.

Still, you busy yourself with

tossing crumbs from your


some time

between dinner and breakfast

oblivious to the vast, elongated

minutes that spill out

in between.

You really don’t mean to

leave everyone behind


for dessert, for

their box of cigars. Yet you

linger for a moment, your

hand clutching the steel railing

your face already full of

these things that

might have been.



You see pictures

not like those at exhibitions

but merging, delirious

framed by

your tremulous desire and

illumined by a yellow

corner lamp – for free.

You see pictures of


being pushed into

ice-cold hands, of

gatherings and music, of

ubiquitous laughter, of

eyes meeting eyes

meeting you as you tremble in your


The [...]

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Tomorrow is another day

Tomorrow is another day,

Sometime I'll find a way to retire,

From here to a thousand years.

Tomorrow some day,

It’ll be the store of mine

Completely rebuilt,

That burns or stands tall.

Tomorrow is, the chief

Spot of the sunbeam.

Tomorrow somehow, someway is never here,

But further and further away

From today, and from here.


River of Blood


The Miami river of love
has been carrying some blood
for some time now-

……………………………..but I have the boulevard
                                                 I have the bay
                                                  to keep me calm 
                                                  and forget about the harm               
                                                                                  you've caused me-
The city welcomes me every time you
throw me out into the streets…
but the river doesn't have to carry all that blood.                                  





Winter in South Florida


Palm fronds rattle

Lizards hide


Ibis huddle

Blooms drop


Upturned Closets

Mismatched clothes


Children fuss

Their noses ooze


Lips dry out

Smiling hurts


Homeless woman drags her cart


Sun shines on

Sun shines on