Inclinado en una tarde sombría,
Entre tinieblas y la falta de calor,
Te solté como un pájaro nocturno
Y te vi volar entre las primeras
Estrellas que centellan tú llegada
Como mi alma cuando la tocastes
Por primate vez Amor mío.

Y aunque fui yo quien te solté,
Eh ido marcando con antorchas
Tu llegada inesperada.

Tengo historias que contarte,
Comida para enseñarte,
Besos que regalarte,
Callados, delirantes
Se pierden en este pueblo
En donde te amaba.

Oh mi vida,
Entre el silencio que me arropa
Y la voz algo se va muriendo,
Algo de angustia y olvido,
Algo entre las nubes y las estrellas,
Algo como la caída de un árbol.

Sin embargo, mis cuerdas vocales
Se bañan entren estas palabras fugaces,
Algo canta entre señales de humo,
Gritar, cantar, huir entre hojas
Marchitas del invierno.

Tú estás aquí, tú no huyes,
Tú me responderás hasta el último grito,
Sin embargo, alguna vez vi como corría
La tristeza debajo de las olas de tus ojos,
Y mi todo, apenas quedan gotas temblando.

Y triste y fuerte amor mío,
Que haces de repente que no llegas?

To you,
How much city
Do you need,
How much hunger
Will suffice,
You have feet
That will walk,
You have hands
That will do,
A voice that echoes
Through the shining lights,
And ears that could listen
To the beat of the stars
That shine above
The sky scrapers,
The city will bring
Spring and summer,
So dress in color
Since today the wind
Was born among
The rain that puddles
The streets.
laugh, crying will
Bring so much cold,
More cold than forgetting
To live.
And I will laugh with you,
Parked outside a diner
On a rainy day.
It doesn’t seem that cold
Today my friend,
The roots of the trees
With fallen leaves
Are healthy,
Waiting to flourish again.
Oh, how much city we have,
So much thirst.

In the quiet of night,
I’ll sit near the amber
Scented candle,
I’ll stretch my hand
Over the flame that
Sits on top like a bee
Peacefully sleeping
On the petal of
A sunflower,
I’ll stir it up,
Let it sting
Until the night
Not so quiet anymore
Blows out the flame,
Seeing it dance before
It becomes absence
And pollen.

It’s midnight,
Im driving down
69 north
Towards Oklahoma
The stars won’t
come out tonight,
Maybe it’s too cold
Or too hot,
Or they are too shy,
They just won’t come out,
Leaving the sky
With a distinct
Grey hue,
To my right,
The sound of
Metal hitting metal
Follows me,
A friend maybe a foe,
A beast,
I can barely catch a silhouette
In between the trees and
The foliage,
Until we reach
The radio towers
That showers whatever
It’s on the other side
With a deep red
I’ve only seen in blood,
A train
It sounds tired,
Discouraged,
I empathize,
I wonder when will
It be bestowed the
Honor to rest
And if it’s loved,
we both
Just keep going.

The waves calm
As they can be,

The silhouette
Of a woman

Reflecting
Celestial beings

Upon her skin,
Matching the tides

With the wet sand,
Covering foot prints

That got bigger
and bigger

The more
I circled around,

Now I float
Towards the horizon,

Feeling better than I
Did yesterday,

Watching the stars
Fall out of the sky

In the evenings
Of a month

I’ve learned to
Stop counting,

I would drink
If I had a drink,

I would smoke
If I had a smoke,

I would love,
If I had someone
to love.

And slip through
The crevices,

Through corals
And tropical fish,

The light feels
Warmer down her,

Maybe,
    I am okay
           After all.

I traverse the clouds today,
In search of a better day,
Forgotten eyes,
A momentary break
From what the past
Brought and the
Future will bring.

I look out my window,
And suddenly there you
Are again.

You are the blend of
orange and blue
That stretches
from south to north.
So pretty to the common eye,
So undetected to the ones
That don’t know you.

You are the feeling of peace
I feel when the plane
Shakes to the ground
Just to set himself straight
Before touching concrete.

You are the
Air underneath
The wings,
That takes us
To my destination,
And All I wish
is to be grounded
Once again.

If I had one wish,
Just one,
It would be
To be eternal,
Immortal,
Soaking in
Life as I play
With the water
And drink
From the fountain
Of youth
That with one
Sip pulls back
My skin and
Opens my
Arteries all
While the
Forrest inside
My lungs oxygenates
And purifies
The atmosphere,
I hope I learn to
Forgive myself,
That I will be
Reborn with
Some discipline,
An undying wouldn’t
Dare be tormented
And punished,
He would love,
Unbranded,
Unconditional,
The type of love
That teaches you
How to live,
oh, to feel
That type
Of love again
In between
War and plague,
And death,
That now walks
Attached to the hip,
Of someone that
Has learned to let go.

In an ideal future,
I’ll have a
House near a river
By the mountains
Of Puerto Rico,
My own cafe
With amazing books
And ever greater
Baked goods,
But the lines
Get blurred
When I think of you.

You,
Angel of the fortunate,
Breathtaking and majestic,
Wearing beautifully woven
Sun kissed robes
That follow you
Like your shadow does,
Only the sweet scent
Of peaches and cream
Shapes you,
Divine as a Greek sculpture,
With a smile that stuns
And gives photographic memory
To whoever has held a
Four cloverleaf before.

I’ll hold your hand,
Walk down the path
Behind what we
Would call our home,
Suddenly the silence
Start to get deafened
By the sound of rushing
Water and leafs that
While dancing with
The breeze crumble
In your admiration.

As we sit on
Moonlight showered
Mossy stones,
I’ll find out,
I can’t seem to
Remember your name.
And while  the water
doesn't touch my feet,
ill get up to keep walking
until my nervous system
gives out and the burning stops
or I find you,
Whoever you are.
To show me how cold the water can be.

It’s April again.
And now
the bulbs have
Sprouted tulips

And the smell of
Hyacinths wreaks
Havoc upon the
Butterflies and
The bees that are
Coming out of hiding,

And the mountains
Are wearing color,
While the rivers
Become their shoes,
Flamboyan trees
And hibiscus ties
The laces.

The spring rain
Have baptized me
And washed the
Dirt off my face,
As my hands are
Buried deep in the
Soil of another day.

I’m sitting in my car
Chain smoking,
It’s raining hard,
Rivers run through
The side walk
Making it a little cleaner,
Waterfalls rush down
The roof tiles,
The sound of it
hitting the ground
As thought inducing
As the nicotine
My body keeps
Asking for.

Thoughts of Her
Paint me a pretty picture.

She loved my writing,
She read all of it,
The love I had for Her
Could be felt
Through the screen,
Through the paper,
Even Through my lips
Whenever I had the courage
To tell Her.

I could see it in Her skin,
My words marching
With bayonets and
Strikingly bright
Torches that lit up
The whole room,
My hands rightfully  
Followed,
Climbing up Her legs,
Up and down Her hips,
Moving up Her back.

In days like these
The rain would be
The least of our
Problems.

It would be how much
I wanted Her..

And how much
She wanted me.

I found you
In my skin,
Rushing through
Like blood of a
Fresh cut that is
Bound to heal,
as the trees
Gently extend
Their hand
for the wind
That just asked
them for a dance,
I tremble among
The branches,
Ignored
Behind every
Leaf of a
Flourishing tree

Oh, my everything,
How my heart
Has been forgotten,
Waiting to be claimed
And hold you
By the waist,
Pull you close
Enough for only
The space in between
The words and the
Light of the moon
To go in between us,

But the rivers
Did not form,
It wasn’t enough rain,
And I remain,
Like a small tower
That falls apart
With time,
Devoured by the
Fauna,
Even if it falls,
I’ll still remain,
Like unending
Light,
Or cave windows
That open to
A valley of gold
Covered by
Bougainvillea
Shrubs,
With a chilling
breeze to
Keep me company.

The earth is
Dying of old age
But if it’s me,
That dies first,
Hopefully I get
To enjoy what I’ve
Enjoyed in its
Presence.

The warm and tenderness
Of unconditional love,
Or the passion behind
Nerudas words,
swim in the transparency
Of the freezing rivers
That embark their journey
On the vertebrae of that
Shackled Island
That I used to call home.

If it’s me that dies first,
Don’t let those who
Speak my name see
What I have become,
Let them remember me
For who I was,
Hollowed eyes,
From restless nights,
The incoherencies
That I speak,
The laughs that
Surround me,
Echoing until
Eternity ain’t eternal
Anymore.

When it’s me that dies first,
Take me back
to where I was born
Bury me under the sapling
Of a flamboyán tree,
Love and care as much
Maybe more than you have,
Watch me reborn, grow,
Become magnificent
Dressed in orange reds
And greens.

Finally, carve unto me
The words that I’ve written,
watch me grow old
like I did life’s ago
And forget about me.

Once again
I stand still
And not like
a tree,
Or a parrot
through
The eyes of
an ocelot
Or eternity,
Or prophecy,
I am but
the minuscule man.
I am Man,
Not the moon,
Celestial stone,
In love,
Amid whiteness.
Or the stars
Twilight thieves,
Sparkled fire,
Fluttering with
The wind.
I don’t
understand
What the
wind says,
So I let it talk
Among the branches,
I can hear it through
My open door,
Invasive,
Running through
My living room,
Through wood
And memories,
Bridges burned
I close my door,
A black hole,
A deep minute
In silence,
Misery,
Like moldy bread
On the table,
Overwhelmed
With grief,
So quite,
Like loss
And agony
And ***** water.
But everything changes,
The night passes,
A second,
A minute,
A year,
And everything changes,
Rye grass starts to grow
Around my toes
And below my feet,
Life,
Tenderness,
Inevitable,
Beautiful and warm
Like laughing
Or running,
Or drinking coffee.

It’s so gory,
There’s never a winning side,
The winters find a way
To stay 1 or two more days

In spring the rivers run
Off their course and
The flowers turn
Into pollen machines.

In fall the leafs
Dance with the wind
off the trees
All at once

And oh god,
The summer sun
Melts puddles into
My shirts

But you know
I can see some romance
In love

And how hugs
Feel like being wrapped
Around the mantle
Of the earth,

And water drips
From their lips
And i, lost.
With closed eyes,

Like a vagabond,
I’ll plead and beg
Through the traces
That fall in between
Your jaw and your cheeks

Just to pull out
As eyes interlock,
No words spoken
But so much said.

I started to notice the walls
In my room again,
Empty,
Painted in white,
I wonder if peace lilies
Would compliment
The agony and anguish,
Or if I sit in the middle
Of the room,
As quiet and still
As a Lotus flower,
Delirious and vacant,
Will thoughts of letting go
Pass through my nervous
system and out of my body,
I look at my finger nails,
They have come from a
Place of war and anger
And love and trials,
Where would I be with them?

There’s many different ways
I could describe the thought of you,
How once you walk out
the night comes alive
In a whirlwind of Stars
And shady characters.

How the scent of vanilla
That you carry like
A cross upon your shoulders
Leaves a trail that I follow,
My feet tired of all the walking,

I wish you would sit down
With me for a second
A minute,
For a moment,
Share flying beliefs,
Let the night sky
Serenade you with your
Favorite songs.

I would stand
And lend you my arm,
Under a black canvas,
We’ll paint
The night starry.

It still won’t be as beautiful as you,
You are art,
In a world where it seems to be
Under appreciated.

All I wish is to have you
In my arms,
As we lay waiting
For the night to turn into day.

So I can go back to work,
And start again.

I see myself
Tumbling down
The hill once more,
The grass scratches
My back and arms
rocks cover themselves
As I come rolling
Past them,
Hitting every last one,
I cry and plead
for forgiveness,
I ask god for time
And time again
I ask for a glimpse
Of the garden
On the other side,
I bury my nails
Into the skin of the earth
I crawl past the rain,
I crawl past the heat,
The undying days
And remorseful nights,
my heart starts to pound
As the smell of jasmines
Mists down the peak,
The ground crumbles.
And I see myself
tumbling down
To silence once again.

Are you happy Sisyphus?
Do you ever think
Of the end?
Do you miss the ones
You loved,
And the ones
That loved you?
Do you wonder,
Of the flowers that
Grow to your right
Or maybe your left?
Is it truly fulfilling
To push and push
Just to start all
Over again when you get
That little feeling in your chest?
butterflies of content,
False hope that always
Let’s you down,
Not slowly, or with care.
But abrupt and so full
Of disappointment.
I’d dare think of you
As a happy man,
Camus thought that
The struggle itself
Was enough to fill
A man’s heart,
But I stand here
Holding unto my
Door frame
As the wind howls
And tangoes across
The empty street,
Blowing the leaves
Of a seasons past
Trying to hold unto
My feet.
How can I find happiness
In struggle Sisyphus,
Will it always be like this?
Im too curious,
Too distracted,
Too ready for the end,
Oh, I can’t wait for all
Of this to end,
Maybe then I’ll see,
That as my fingers latch
And my body flails,
There always has been
A smile on my face.

The cloudy night sky
Didn’t let me see the stars today
It was just me and the moon
Enjoying our time together
Being more than just friends
Being less than, anything else.

The unobtainable moon,
Chatting with a mere poet
That doesn’t know
where he’s stands
Between himself and her,

What does he seek?
What does he want?

He doesn’t know,
It doesn’t know
where or why
Or how,
He just knows
That he doesn’t know

And that time will tell,

In different ways

Life will answer him,
What he’s been
screaming to the moon

All those years.

The sun has come up,
Behind well watered trees

With that bright yellow
warm that it brings

I look outside my window,
From the opened blinds

That I leave for my cats to look
Out into the world

And sunbathe in pure light
While waiting for squirrels

A glimpse of peace flows
into me and out of me

I won’t remember this moment,
Insignificant as it is

It still means that I am here,
On a sunny morning

Where I don’t have to work,
Or do chores

The mountains are still
Wearing the horizon

The rivers are still
Marching down their backs

February is rolling
Around the corner

After that the wind
Will sing in March

I’m no longer sure
What’s important

All I know is that
This peace won’t last.

The trees grow
And will keep
Growing old,
The minutes pass
Through them
Dying off at
61 seconds
Like a stem
Of bundled
Up geraniums
That waited
for the cold
To pass,
A corpse murdered,
Leaving only the
Skeleton of what
Was once loved,
Motionless with age,
And then comes the rain,
Washing away
Spilled blood,
Silence, rain,
Turning the ground
Into stone,
Where a river will
Run through,
Waving life
As butterflies emerge
From their cocoons,
Natural, a sign,
Like the light
That shines upon
The moon and
the moon shines
Upon us,
So much fog
Will dim it
So much
Like smoke
Breaking loose
From a fire,
In the woods
Nothing is certain
But the man living,
And eating,
And smiling,
Noticing that
The trees
Eat time.

I sit,
and look at the
Gardeners with
Their shovels
And mowers.

the steam cleaners
In their white vans
On their way to scam
Their next victim.

the retail workers
With bags
Underneath
Their eyes,
So tired of waiting
For the last check
of the month,
And the second job they
Have to hold.

The mundane drips
From their open wounds,
And I just hope,
To be more like them.

i'm on my way
towards thinking of you

As I start to notice that
The smell of the flowers

That cover the fields
Have found their way

Into my car,
It lays in my passenger seat,

Feet on the dashboard
All while enjoying

The music that
Shuffles through

The speakers,
I focus on the road ahead,

But every once in while,
I get distracted by

The greenery of the
Mountain range that sits

Idle on the horizon,
Cold coffee

And cigarettes fill
My stomach,

I flinch and check
The back seat

Where my heart sits,
Buckled up so

It doesn’t fly out
The open windows

A sigh of relief leaves
My body and into

The atmosphere,
Turning the day into night,

Giving me a new scenery,
With bright blue stars

That shine their light
Upon the street,

Showing me the way,
Suddenly a welcome to

Sign with your name on
It materializes in front

Of the head lights,
I stop at the next

Gas station,
I look up to

The spotlight that keeps
The shadows away,

And I wonder how
Bad can it actually be

To be happy.

Across the street
From where I’m sitting on
An older blonde lady
Cries her eyes out,
Her friend or girlfriend or wife
Consoles her, making her laugh
In between tears.

I wonder what keeps
Them up at night

They won’t remember
this moment ,
Not because it’s not special
But because she seems so
Good at making her
Happy, even though
She was just
Crying herself
A puddle underneath
Her feet.

This was not
The first time.

I think to myself
I should have made her laugh
As thoughts of yesterday
Run through her mind
Ease the pain that can’t be
Eased with paper towels
And ice packs

The sky is getting darker
It looks like it’s about to rain
I should tell them to run
Back inside.

I wouldn’t want it
To ruin their night.

Bukowski wrote
“I loved you
like a man loves
a woman he never
touches, only writes to,
keeps little photographs of.”

And I wish that was the case,
Because when the night
Gets darker and darker
And the streets
Get filled with shiny
Lights and long days,

I start to remember the
Smell of your hair,
The silk on your skin,
The dew on your eyelashes.

And the poems
You have written about me,
The bad ones,
And the good ones.

When the room starts
Smelling like rot and
Decay.

And I can’t keep my hands
Off of the kitchen knifes
And the lights flicker
Morse code.

I think to myself
what if I would have stayed
In the comfort of my home
And sunk in the problems
That I had and didn’t have.

What would have been
Of my life.

It’s 7:46 Am
On a Saturday,
I’m sitting
in my car
in front
of an urgent care
that opens
around 9:00 Am,
I can feel the left
Side of my face swelling
Up as my gums bleed
Through my teeth
Creating puddles
Of iron in the back
Of my tongue,
I connect my phone
To the radio,
And play the song
That has been stuck
On my mind
For the past few months,
That and the Tylenol
Ease the pain until
They open the doors,
I walk in fast,
Almost breaking down
The glass that fills
In the windows,
The lady at the counter
Notices the bags
Underneath my eyes
From the lack of sleep,
She asks for an emergency
Contact, my face betrays
Me as my eyes widen,
While I think of what to
Say the pain comes back.

As I sit
In the middle
Of a blunt
Rotation

I lean back on
The chair
As the birds
Fly by,

The sun filters
Through the
Leafs of an
Oak,

“What is it
That you guys
Say again?”
“Puñeta”

Everyone erupts
Simultaneously,
“Puñeta!”
And we laugh.

a corona gets
Passed from hand
to hand
And I watch

This salvadorian
Make a perfect
Puerto Rican
Impression

That for a second
Got me at the edge
Of my seat
Holding on

Onto the arms rest,
Sobered up my high
And made me feel
Like I was sitting

Back home
At the edge of
The bottom
Bed

Of my friends
Bunkbeds,
I laugh and
Take a swig

Off the cold
Bottle and wonder
Why it tastes
So bitter sweet.

In late afternoons,
When the sky isn’t as
Forgotten by the bystanders
That walk the sidewalks
And the more fortunate
That drive the streets
God turns into a magnificent painter,
With oranges and blues and whites
On the blank canvas,
He lets you know how talented
He is with a brush,

I don’t believe in god,
I’m not a good Shepherd
Or the sheep.

But, do you see the color
Of the sky
When it’s the sun’s turn to sleep?

And do you see these hands?
They have loved and hurt,
They have cooked and baked
They have opened and closed doors,
They have demolished the distances
Of all that is land and sea.
yet,
They stop in between celestial change,
To observe an artist at work.

I’ll sit,
Unsatisfied In the well
In which I dug myself in,
With nothing but these hands
That I have done so much with
And the sky that while
Being turned into another museum piece,
signals me another night.

tonight the moon
shares her glare with us,
Giving us permission to look,
Blushing light,
Dimmed among
The constellations
That surround the
High ceiling above our heads,
But bright enough to
Be able to see the
Smile on your face,
Sadly I sit alone today,
Like I’ve sat for the
Past seven to eight months,
I’ve learned to enjoy
Moments like this,
I say alone,
But I share the night,
With the moon
And the stars
And the trees
And open lit
Windows,
I finish my cigarette,
With a last smoke
That seems to triple
In size because
Of how cold it is,
And I run inside
To the warm
And my cats
That lay with me
On this beautiful night.

I walk by the street,
Evading the lines
On the sidewalk,
I noticed a guy
Working on his car,
The same way I’ve noticed
Him for the past 3 days,
I jump over four leafs
Clovers and open
The doors to the
Corner store,
I grab my usual,
A watermelon
Arizona,
Then I walk up
To the counter
And ask for a
Pack of camels 99,
A look of glee
Reflecting on
The glass that
Protects the
Cashier,
I walk back outside,
The sun beaming
Bright yellow
Through rain
Clouds that are starting
To dissipate,
The same guy,
Now sleeping in his car,
I wonder,
Where will it
All take us?

I’m certain,
That one day
I will forget.

Until that day
Comes

I will remember
To forgive all that
Should be forgiven,
Myself for that matter.

And most importantly,
I will love all that
Should be loved,
I will live through
All that should be lived.

I will seek the
Field of daisies
That waits for me
Patiently,
At the mountain top.

I won’t look down,
Except for when I do,
To remember you,
Beautiful and
Only beautiful.

I can’t wait,
To lay my heart to rest,
On the flower bed,
That sits at the peak.

I’ll sit right besides it,
And as I forgive and forget,
I’ll find peace
In the changing of the winds,
And the breathtaking
Sunset over the horizon.

I wonder why
Your hair is
Always covered,
But not enough
For me not to see
A part where
The back
Of my fingers
Could gently
Caress as
It curls around
Them like
Mandevilla,
They can
Make themselves
At home,
And grow a
Garden covering
My arms
And protect me
Against the
Sunshine
That tans
And burns
My skin.

Have I lost you,
In the cardinal
winds?

Has it lifted you,
Far from where
We are?

I took on poetry,
And books,
And more books
To calm the bitter
Taste of salt water.

My heart
Takes no respite,
As it swallows and
Drowns in the
Mediocrity.

While autumn
Sinks his teeth
Into meat
That I so
Solemnly
Follow
Catching up
With every
Living breath
Just to feel the bite
Marks left behind.

My heart is not
One to give up.

I live
Through misery,
In hopes that it’ll
Bloom in the
Evenings of spring
Bringing the butterflies
That I wait to wake up
With one day,
My stomach has been
Empty for a second too late.

And the bees,
Oh the bees.

So magnificent
As they succumb
To the nectar
And take it back
Home to be made
Into honey.

Hard workers in
Look of hard work.

Patience is virtue
And I’ll wait in the
Roaring sea.
Through harsh winters
And freezing rains.

Just to feel,
What I’ve felt again.

I find myself lost for words
Every time that I stand in front
Of you,

I can feel my eyes looking for
Yours getting disoriented along
the way, eye contact has
never been my
Strong suit,

As I see the walls close in on us,
I can feel all that I’ve been wanting
To say get stuck on the roof of my mouth,
Creating a sky with stars that burns
A hole through,

In the few years that I’ve lived,
I’ve never been a talker,
But I think of all the ways
I would tell you how
The way you walk away,
Leaves me craving that you
Would turn around and give
Me a little more of your time,
Precious, I’m lost in what
I should have said,

In the space in between your steps,
In the way your hair curls and drips
Down your shoulders putting
Down a blanket where I could lay,
I find myself caged,
Bound to the bars by ball and chain,
Wishing that these words would
Find their way to you,
To let you know how
You make me feel
On a day to day.

I haven’t cried sad in a long time,
I’ve dipped my feet in the vast
Sadness of my heart, but I’ve
Never dared jump

And it’s starting to show,
In the way I talk, in the dark
Crevices underneath my eyes,
On my shoulders

When will it be that the heavens
play their trumpets in my name,
And let me blessed with rain showers
That washes the dirt off my soul.

Let me be touched by the
Never ending cycle,
Let me hide underneath
The shadow of the clouds.

Let me forget my heart in the
Puddles of water,
Let it be picked up by gentler hands
and cared for again.

It’ll always be you,
The same way
It’ll always be me.

The bird sings
To the sun
Acclamations
As it prays
And builds
Itself a nest,
He then flies
Through the trees
And around
the branches
Like a circus
gymnast
Dressed in
tight colors
Just to dive up
Around the sea
Of Leafs until
He finds himself
Souring through
The clouds,
Close enough
To the sunset,
Praising the
Tints of orange
And reds
Running through
What we
could call
Personified life,
He then
sings again,
One last
time for the day,
Before twilight
Reigns the sky
With constellations
Of stars that are too
Far to hear the singing
Or the crying or
The laughter.

Today,
I happen to be
tired of being a man,
I walk empty streets,
That feel just as empty
As I stride on the asphalt.

my feet always
Tapping to the rhythm
Of the quiet palpitations
Of sorrow and one more day.

It will haunt me forever,
Missed opportunities,
The discouragement
To wake up remorseful
Again and again.

The sound of love and peace
That Leaves my lips
Every moment that I think
Of bougainvilleas,
The corals in the sea,
Avocado trees.

and You who looks
at me with pride
Every now and then.

In days,
Weeks,
Months
Like this

I can’t wait
To be happy.

Ay, despertador en las mañanas,
En taza de cerámica
Tan ancha como el cielo
O tal vez como la tierra,
Te creo entre temblequeo
Y la serenidad de una
Noche estrellada.

Amongst the sound
Of the rain hitting
The metal canopy
That covers the cars,
I can distinctly
Hear the horn
Of a train,
Everything else
Comes with imagination,
The wheels hitting
The track,
The wagons shaking
And roaring through
The intense rain
That floods the streets
And makes me feel
Nostalgic.

Es tanto,
Lo que eh callado,
Muchos espacios
Entre palabras
Que bajan
Las nubes a tus
Pies para
Acolchonar el
Piso que caminas,
Y con un bulto
De rayos de sol,
Camino para
Cuando tus dias
Caigan desvelados
Y la noche mucho
Más oscura de lo normal
Esconda tu sonrisa
Entre las sombras
Y la angustia
Abrirlo y alegrarte
Con la calor de
Un sábado
En donde las
Lluvias descansan
Y los pájaros cantan
Entre la gente
Libre de un día
Más de trabajo.

The window blinds
Open for the
First time since
I’ve been living here,
A potted plant
Shadows the
Streets during
The night
And during
The day it
Hugs the walls
Tight.

A figure walks down
The rooms,
Gliding as if
She was ice skating
Across the carpeted
Floors.

I’m sitting across,
Smoking,
Watching
The shadows swim
Through the
Washed down
Windows,

Tones of a home
Can be seen,
I wonder what
Goes on inside.

The ground has been
Trembling all day,
The sky dark
With resentment,
Holding unto
Buckets of water,
The wind screams
And throws a tantrum
In the street,
And I can’t seem
To keep the thoughts
At bay.

When I used to think
About my dad,
Not much came up,
But I remember
Getting excited,
Every time my mom
Picked up the phone
And it was my him,
On the other line,
Asking when he
Can pick me up,
Scheming for
A good time

It felt almost like
A school trip,
On those yellow
Trucks without
Ac but a stereo
System that would
Shake the windows
Of the new houses
I get to see.

Always an adventure,
Always something new
To experience,
Always good.

It’s as if the bad
Was concealed
Behind the curtain
That just closed up
The actors of a
Very corny drama,

It was hard to come
To him in times of need,
Always working,
Always busy,
Always in love,
Always living a life,

But lately,
He has been helping
Me kick stones out
Of my path.

“Necesitas algo”

“Estás bien mi niño””

“Si tú eres mi hijo,
Esto es lo que va pasar”

If you are my son,
He says.

I fall down from exhaustion,
And accept his apology.