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Alex Salazar Jan 2021
I stand on our mountain, and make offerings to her.
I find the warmest of stones, and build tiny glass kingdoms
I bury the sweetest of apricots, and grow tiny red arboretums  

And then
She comes
Under a pink noon
Smelling of sweet
Belly laughs
Into the valley below

She nestles on my shoulder
And raises my arm
Pointing above to distant stars

Absorbed in those green engulfing stones
I find myself on a surf
her gaze lifting my body into the air

She clutches me close
And spells out some fears
I tell her it took
Courage to finally get here

My hand on her cheek
As the cover of night approaches
Her body begins to phase
Holding her until she disappears gently
into my heart
Alex Salazar Nov 2020
soft silhouette.
an outline so evocative.  
a strange desire to sing the unwise,
to catch a name and raise a fist,
to bare a few words,
and claim this evening,
from an otherwise drunken mood.

habitual courage summoned at the sweat of another drink,
a committee of stoic voices living inside of me.
passed down through a millennia of spanish men
incessantly clamouring for more whiskey.
incessantly advising
to just breathe and let go.
Alex Salazar Sep 2020
I scrape
my knees,
and pick up
my soul

i breathe
heavy and lose

i own the night
i own my dreams
the right to live
my only
Alex Salazar Feb 2020
On the ground dead
Half buried, arm sticking out
Abandoned and left with a lily
A ceremony long finished
People just passing through
A sequence of prayers
Long dried up and floating into the ether

Winters almost gone
Duplicity is just about melted
The sun is helping the rot
And what's left of the body
Is bordering near dust
Alex Salazar Nov 2019
Forests of stone, glass and light.
The truth cries out in the night.
Dearest oatmeal, Sometimes we fail to be whom we need to be.
Sometimes trepidation assumes form and takes judgment.
I need you to ASK yourself,
Can I trust this voice?

Discover the self,
And feel for what you say,
Does it strengthen my position or fragment it?

This world full of thunder,
Awaits someone more than you.
Someone outside the domain of opaque
Someone ready to tender, and accept the world for its stench, and will enough the courage to make it better.
Alex Salazar Nov 2019
The best kind of people are the ones not afraid to tell the truth.

The best kind of people are not afraid of showing vulnerability.

The best kind of people laugh with infectious glee.

The best kind of people make a stand and work out love or for the possibility of it.

The best kind of people shed themselves of filters (judgements) and fall fourth straight into arms of possibility.

The best kind of people sacrifice in the now for a better abstract future.

The best kind of people are wholly selfless.
Alex Salazar Nov 2019
Transference is inevitable.
A flower that grows in between the dead cold moss.
A small hope cradled as a warm stone.
A kindness born through some invocation,
some attempt to make sense of our place in this world.
Its a prayer, a distance seen in your eyes,
A doubt formed in the mind,
by the brief rejection of a potential lover.

We are the esculent,
made ready to be consumed by the love of another.
We are a breath, held on by the hands of a good friend.
A flame stoked,
Gently in the night.
We are, we are,
weight (significant).
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