a GOODbye

"Jhwh, Jhwh, Jhwh"

within You
the vastness lures me
yet destroys me
feeling the lightness of feathers
spreading everywhere
faintly breathing
transparently slipping
as drops of water
into the Palm of the Sea

war

atramentaceous bullets fire with the trigger of his thirsty lips, exploding the muscular pear-shaped troops. cardinal forces weep in gunpowder, igniting attacks onto fields of snow. the innocent wander with holes, depleting into ghosts. the tainted mix metals in their tanks, as the blues sob, meandering in search of peace

ode

"canta, canta, canta corazon"


better than nepenthe, it helped her remember feelings of home. and within this there was never mania. there was no rush to be anywhere, to do anything, or to be anyone; it was a feeling of a moment that extended with gentleness and simply brought the hues closer. more natural than her skin, it was a feeling that equaled her in one. an accumulation, like a ball of yarn whose drawn all its thread together, that round yet concrete feeling of a peaceful awakening. it grew with a soft strength, weaving her legs into roots, holding her eyes from falling over and synthesizing her tremor into a serenade.

web

the plane collapses in four, dividing the passengers in segments whose sum will make the distance of the line but for now will march in rows, aligning with those above and below simultaneously. a bow is tied with each, drawing circles in space to spin, giving the appearance of a breeze, which is really a connection of many. together closely moving, it is the phrases that push the arrows further west and quiet stillness that plays harmoniously within and throughout

inside

wooden doors swing through, teasing the eyes to wander, blowing bright colors in scarves, brushing her lashes that frame the peep hole of the doors. standing in movement, she feels the compass running into directions, opening past transits and extending its roads across forming space. pieces slide together as memories disappear, giving her the golden entrance. she turns around quickly to shut herself in only to realize there was no door; it was her

coquette

nada no mas silencio
puro silencio
nada en mi

me haces reir
como sales
de lado
y te busco
para solo encontrar
el vacio de
tu lado

nada sin nada
deja los lados

considera

sin empezar moriste
en creer en la mentira
regresa no para vivir
no para sobrevivir
ni para seguir
solo
solo
solo
por
Ti

aprendete

la luz llega sin respido. la luz se prende sin fuerza. la luz brilla sin caricias. la luz por ser luz, vive sin vivir.

forward

the candles linger, burning her sight in red. shadows expand their form, hold their breath to ache her heart. though she can feel their fright, her vision rests in a place far from where her exhale begins. here and there, her attendance is accounted for, with marked points to allow access past the gates. she stays everywhere, with the agreement of brief encounters. movement is oxygen. and her strings must remain free, to pull the others together. any part that stops, turns the flow in contrary angles, causing disruption to the symphony that plays in your heart.

reality

its madness. how a fleeting dark car can pass and pull me into its weight, where i open the truck and place myself in, allowing it to lock me hostage through the end of the night. and usually when the sun arises, i remember i have the key to get out. tragedy, irony, comedy

stationary

she likes the way the creek flows through their eyes. its force calls her name. listening attentively, she falls into it, spiraling into blurry temperatures for seasons at a time. the cycle continues again and again. drenched in defeat, the flow of gases catches her innocence, hanging her to dry with the white linens on a summer afternoon.

before its sway can pull her again, rugged rope ties her ankles to the hidden corners of earth. her ears are plugged with ringing oceans and lotus petals bury her rods and cones. she is still current.

with time, stability forms near her ribs, strengthening the arched dam by her crown. her channels flow swiftly, like the gliding flock of birds that drink from her streams. elliptical arms amplify waves, massaging nadir to rise with zenith, arranging crest waves to circulate time.

necklace

sequence chains loosen threaded knots. needles at first glance cut the skin only to pierce through the pain. deep within shades of darkness, sleeps an amber clasp, protecting a jewel. its radiance magnetically embraces the pupa. all around its glow, flows osculating feelers, sparking fate into polaroids for all to wear...

play

accordion lines collapse into her lungs, expanding her body in expression, pouring tides of tones through her pallets, while bringing semi-colons to rest. some days, she plays pitches that force the ground to hover under shades of safety. but it's only when she listens that her articulation resonates in lullabies. afraid of the stark contrast, she removes the straps to the box. holding her fragile fingers, she sits in silence. it's a blackout in loneliness; until she remembers she is the instrument. her signature is not within the sounds. she must simply let the songs play, play, play on and through

choose

stars

feeling so easily; blind in discriminating waves, accepting and absorbing the lightness and darkness equally, overlapping in four, quadrupling in grids, dissolving matter as dots scattered across the evening sky.