Pass him by
but make sure you hold your breath.
Pass him by
be certain your eyes don’t catch.
Pass him by-
if you look, you must give up your coins.
Pass him by
if he doesn’t exist you are free from your guilt.
Pass him by
do not say, “Hola” or smile.
Pass him by
he is scum and annoys with his presence.
Pass him by
the streets are all plagued by his begging.
Pass him by
and your demons will stay in his song.
Friday, April 3, 2009
I forgot to call. I’m sorry.
Proximo tren llegara en:
02 min
While I wait
and I wait
and the sand jams
the end of my pen
I am pensive
and late
while I wait
and I wait
with the swift winding roar
down the tracks
of Chueca
down the tunnels
I’m boarding
and flying
quite late
towards Diego de León
I should see how late I am.
02 min
While I wait
and I wait
and the sand jams
the end of my pen
I am pensive
and late
while I wait
and I wait
with the swift winding roar
down the tracks
of Chueca
down the tunnels
I’m boarding
and flying
quite late
towards Diego de León
I should see how late I am.
Oh Madrid
Oh Madrid
each time I leave
the stones of your skin
I fall deeper into you.
Oh Madrid
I am hopeless
I am helpless
I am in love.
Madrid
you are more beautiful
more flavorful
more everything
I could ever want.
I would paint a thousand faces
kiss a million lips
just to cool my toes
on your cobblestoned streets.
Madrid-
this love is obsession
infatuation
a desperation
and I need to
return to you
every time I leave.
Oh Madrid.
each time I leave
the stones of your skin
I fall deeper into you.
Oh Madrid
I am hopeless
I am helpless
I am in love.
Madrid
you are more beautiful
more flavorful
more everything
I could ever want.
I would paint a thousand faces
kiss a million lips
just to cool my toes
on your cobblestoned streets.
Madrid-
this love is obsession
infatuation
a desperation
and I need to
return to you
every time I leave.
Oh Madrid.
The Fallas is Burning.
It’s like gravity.
While the crowd grows
and I am embarrassment.
While whistles and laughter
soar through the crowd.
A BOOM!
and a CHEER!
We walked along the way.
The wicked forest.
The wicked forest.
Along a path we never knew.
What was before us?
That was before us.
And all the while
the light continued
to change.
RED
GREEN
YELLOW
RED
And when we touched
we saw fireworks.
And we knew
if our eyes
should close here
the floor would take
the sky to fall
BOOMING
across the land and
to the ground.
And water dripped
from the leaves
while the flames
soared burning
hot in the distance.
While the crowd grows
and I am embarrassment.
While whistles and laughter
soar through the crowd.
A BOOM!
and a CHEER!
We walked along the way.
The wicked forest.
The wicked forest.
Along a path we never knew.
What was before us?
That was before us.
And all the while
the light continued
to change.
RED
GREEN
YELLOW
RED
And when we touched
we saw fireworks.
And we knew
if our eyes
should close here
the floor would take
the sky to fall
BOOMING
across the land and
to the ground.
And water dripped
from the leaves
while the flames
soared burning
hot in the distance.
The Mediterranean.
The sand on the Valencia shores of the Mediterranean is like powdered sugar under your feet. When you strip off your shoes and run towards those waters you can taste the sweet sand under your feet. The sky spreads out before you and reaches down to whip waves of the deepest blue and spread them into a frothy icing in front of you. When you step breathless into the smooth water, you can feel the stars winking shyly to you as they peek down from a gradient night sky. Nothing can prepare you feet for the soft silk of that sand. Nothing can prepare our eyes for the penetrating horizon. And nothing, nothing, can prepare your soul for the heartbeat of the Mediterranean.
Horizon to Horizon.
I am drifting through time and space
half awake and not really sleeping
dreams past train windows
and landscapes
and landscapes.
Other dreamers, almost-dreamers,
and death upon them never dreamers
pass fervent by desert
a lash twitch,
fingers pulled in
passing dreams.
I am sitting across from you
and right next to you.
You tell me
my mother and I
share the same smile.
I smile.
“Yes,
she gave it to me
many years ago.”
And you are a silhouette
an arching nose
on balding hills
balding hills with balding shrubs
with sun on their faces
with barracks in the distance.
I wonder
at what altitude
do mountains begin to dream?
And I begin
an almost-dreaming
sipping dew from fresh blades
in the meadow
of a country farmer
hair damp to the morning earth.
My lungs become the sky
the sky becomes my lungs
and they stretch vast
in oppressive beauty.
This pale expanse
beats lavender into my blood
filtering pure morning air
to the furthest reaches of my limbs.
The lungs reach farther
farther than my eyes
horizon to horizon
and another horizon beyond those.
I am a giant.
I breathe in the waking hills
I pluck petals from a white spring blossom
with my teeth
with my lips
and they become
as I become
my teeth
my lips.
I taste every breath of life in the desert.
I exhale with the planet
and together we begin to hum
OM.
It fills hidden homes
in the rock as we sing
OM.
It graces trembling leaves
at the tips of ancient fingers
OM.
It slithers off rocky cliffs
and down into the canyons ringing
OM.
And caresses down over the hills
over the fields
over the blades of green
entering the earth
and into my skin we breathe
OM.
There are ancient stones
that keep watch
from the mountain.
Those ruins bake in the sun
and wink to the waking eye
of a morning
in a farmer’s land.
half awake and not really sleeping
dreams past train windows
and landscapes
and landscapes.
Other dreamers, almost-dreamers,
and death upon them never dreamers
pass fervent by desert
a lash twitch,
fingers pulled in
passing dreams.
I am sitting across from you
and right next to you.
You tell me
my mother and I
share the same smile.
I smile.
“Yes,
she gave it to me
many years ago.”
And you are a silhouette
an arching nose
on balding hills
balding hills with balding shrubs
with sun on their faces
with barracks in the distance.
I wonder
at what altitude
do mountains begin to dream?
And I begin
an almost-dreaming
sipping dew from fresh blades
in the meadow
of a country farmer
hair damp to the morning earth.
My lungs become the sky
the sky becomes my lungs
and they stretch vast
in oppressive beauty.
This pale expanse
beats lavender into my blood
filtering pure morning air
to the furthest reaches of my limbs.
The lungs reach farther
farther than my eyes
horizon to horizon
and another horizon beyond those.
I am a giant.
I breathe in the waking hills
I pluck petals from a white spring blossom
with my teeth
with my lips
and they become
as I become
my teeth
my lips.
I taste every breath of life in the desert.
I exhale with the planet
and together we begin to hum
OM.
It fills hidden homes
in the rock as we sing
OM.
It graces trembling leaves
at the tips of ancient fingers
OM.
It slithers off rocky cliffs
and down into the canyons ringing
OM.
And caresses down over the hills
over the fields
over the blades of green
entering the earth
and into my skin we breathe
OM.
There are ancient stones
that keep watch
from the mountain.
Those ruins bake in the sun
and wink to the waking eye
of a morning
in a farmer’s land.
A night muse.
Where do you go? Where do you go with your eyes in your skull darling? Where do you go in the night? Where do you go when you lie to my fingers and where do go with my lips? I don’t know where the ages of falling falls onto the crashing waters of the mountain river.
And I want to know. I want to know. I want to know of the roaming valleys and plains filled with wildflowers. I want to know of the rabbits in the grasses nibbling the petals. I want to know of their wishes and share in their secrets. When will I know of the breaking on pavement and hallucinogenic rainfall? I want to see the waves of black nuns devoted in prayer as the tripping on puddles reveals the sins in the hems of their skirts.
I want to feel honey dripped down the rough folds of the trees and the hairs on the squirrel who clutches the sweet drizzled shelled pecans. I want the beat of the battle drum throbbed through my chest. I want the hot waves of the Pacific ocean surging through my toes. I want to crash in the surf of your breathing and suck through the rounds of your nose. I want to pulse through the air in your lunges filtered through the streams of your body. I want to stretch through the ends of your toes and slide through the taunt pulled muscles of your legs. Slide up your hips and move through the twists of your belly. Sail through your liver, the acid of your stomach, and past your vibrating voice box. And burst from your mouth with the heat of your air to hit the bedroom wall in a splat of a painters creation.
And if I could, you would suck inside yourself with the inner journey to questions only you can answer. You would slide behind eyelids and search through your soul. You would breathe in my presence and ask me the answers to life. I would push in your teeth and engrave them into your skull. I would strike into your spinal cord and tap into the core of your being. I would taste the threads of gold grasping into your mind. I would pound a rhythm of Morse and music. I would send message of a million questions and puzzle to which you would form the answers.
Then I would whisper secrets of desire in alphabetical order. Plant a lavender field of knowledge and of knowing. Open the gates to your understanding and bring before you options of decision. You would exhale and smile softly in inner peace. You would be cliffs in the deserts and standing among the stars of heaven. You would be a small boat under the weight of the waterlogged midnight sky.
I would and I will, then you will be without question or wonder. You will be all directions and the veins of everything. You will be North, South, West and East. You will be every note of laughter in between. You will be the tears of the forest and the voice of the Orca as it lullabies the sea. You will be roots of the ground and growing with the rotation of the planet. You will reach up through the clouds and send whirlwind to the nations. The galaxy will jewel pearls on the chains of your neck and slide lights into your eyes.
And I want to know. I want to know. I want to know of the roaming valleys and plains filled with wildflowers. I want to know of the rabbits in the grasses nibbling the petals. I want to know of their wishes and share in their secrets. When will I know of the breaking on pavement and hallucinogenic rainfall? I want to see the waves of black nuns devoted in prayer as the tripping on puddles reveals the sins in the hems of their skirts.
I want to feel honey dripped down the rough folds of the trees and the hairs on the squirrel who clutches the sweet drizzled shelled pecans. I want the beat of the battle drum throbbed through my chest. I want the hot waves of the Pacific ocean surging through my toes. I want to crash in the surf of your breathing and suck through the rounds of your nose. I want to pulse through the air in your lunges filtered through the streams of your body. I want to stretch through the ends of your toes and slide through the taunt pulled muscles of your legs. Slide up your hips and move through the twists of your belly. Sail through your liver, the acid of your stomach, and past your vibrating voice box. And burst from your mouth with the heat of your air to hit the bedroom wall in a splat of a painters creation.
And if I could, you would suck inside yourself with the inner journey to questions only you can answer. You would slide behind eyelids and search through your soul. You would breathe in my presence and ask me the answers to life. I would push in your teeth and engrave them into your skull. I would strike into your spinal cord and tap into the core of your being. I would taste the threads of gold grasping into your mind. I would pound a rhythm of Morse and music. I would send message of a million questions and puzzle to which you would form the answers.
Then I would whisper secrets of desire in alphabetical order. Plant a lavender field of knowledge and of knowing. Open the gates to your understanding and bring before you options of decision. You would exhale and smile softly in inner peace. You would be cliffs in the deserts and standing among the stars of heaven. You would be a small boat under the weight of the waterlogged midnight sky.
I would and I will, then you will be without question or wonder. You will be all directions and the veins of everything. You will be North, South, West and East. You will be every note of laughter in between. You will be the tears of the forest and the voice of the Orca as it lullabies the sea. You will be roots of the ground and growing with the rotation of the planet. You will reach up through the clouds and send whirlwind to the nations. The galaxy will jewel pearls on the chains of your neck and slide lights into your eyes.
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