I was loved
For some time,

It was beautiful,
In between

Sunrise and
Sunset,

Alongside
Cats and candles,

While listening
To the best of

Chuck mangione
On a suit case

Record player,
That I haven’t

Touched since
I was loved,

Now I wonder
If I am deserving,

If life really open
Doors after one closes,

I’ll lay outside,
Back against the lawn,

I’ll **** on the dew
Of a freshly rained tree,

I’ll snack on the mushrooms,
And chew on sticks,

I’ll be fine,
Since I was loved.

I want you
To hold still
Like a statue
In a museum,

Everyone will
Stop to look
at your silhouette
While basking
In your shadow,

They’ll drop
Flowers and wine
At your feet
As offerings,

And your beauty
Will reach the rims
Of the ears
Of emperors
Across the oceans

And the seas
And the rivers,
All bodies of
Water separate
In your presence,

But here you are,
Anxiously walking
From side to side,
Searching for what
Shouldn’t be searched for,

My love,
Please sit still,
Let me adore
The ground
That you stand on,

With flower petals
From a dying rose
That I’ve been holding
For so long,

I’ll reach deep within
My chest, and with
Bloodied hands
I’ll place my heart
At your feet.

The black cat brings bad luck,
how low stupid men can stoop
is beyond your imagination,
literate but never really
liberal but not liberated
from long held prejudices.

Drive that black kitten away,
don't look at it,
it shows up at your home means
bad times are on the way.

The cute little kitten breathes heavy
chased from one door to the other
without the least idea why
seeking the comfort of love
is such a big sin.

Speak of love,
So many hopeless hearts,
With none to give.
Something to dream they'll find,
When they aren't even sure what to look for.
Find it on your own first.
Otherwise, you'll just end up hurting others
Or hurting worse.

A spider weaves
A home on
The beige brick
Wall that divides
The parking lot
From the street,
I walked through
It by accident,
I feel it on my arms
Down to my legs,
An intricate webbing
Made to trap its prey,
I take it off of me
In panic, as the cicadas
Dance their tune away
In the withering heat
Of June.

Ay mi vida,
las sombras
Se an acostumbrado
A cantar tu nombre
En días calientes
Y pegajosos,
Yo las busco
Para sentarme
A su lado
Y escucharlo
De alguien más
Que no sea mi
Boca, y mis labios
Tiemblan y océanos
Llenan mis ojos
Mientras la oscuridad
Canta una sinfonía
Que no sale de mi
Mente.