3/25/2016

probablamente estoy
viviendo demasiado

the New York skyline
looms In the background,
looming,

dark and imposing like
all those people that will always know
more than me

waking up to tall, grey monsters
kingkong figures walking through
town with their windows, so seethrough.

You can see the island from your
window, all the way down Harlem hill.
I raise a brow, cross my arms, hit my foot against the tile.

I listen to mariachi music
It is very sad
perhaps I'm living too much.

I don't have a problem with stringing
my heart out, play me like a guitar on
the radio, I keep locking my keys out
of my car, I point my chest into the sun
and touch other problems

     bullet, bullet, gun,

"I ate civilization. It poisoned me; I was defiled. And then I ate my own wickedness."*
- Aldous Huxley

i let my head hit the brachiaria.
cyan sky rolled past,
and it seemed to me as if

my past itself was dragged out of my body,
excorcised and pulled up
and traveled with the sky's current

the sky is moving,
impossible and slow.
the clouds jog with a rush.

sometimes i think i have never
felt at all
with my year ****** up,

on their way to Mongolia or
Philadelphia,
I tried to desperately recall

sullied at the thought i couldnt.
I thought about how i always embarrassed you
in public

how i'd turned into an embarrassment
at this point in time
my pure innocence

that flowed in the past gently
uncomfortably shifting and
wondering how certain things felt

i don't know
manhood devoured me like
an apple.

in the garden
i walked
tried to spot all the perennials

and i did
and i thanked mankind for taking up the
habit of finding wild plants

bringing them into our lives
i see a sign, the museum is holding an exhibit on
british pastorals and hellscapes

i tell her we should go.
she agrees
walks across the street to buy a wire.

my blood ran down my body
onto the linen
Egyptian cotton

like the princesses who
married at 14,
at 13 i laughed

when they asked me to go the square
and at 15 i felt it my responsibility.
the fetid collapse of my

sincerity and my serenity
flowed through my being
patrolled round

my purity like
a culpable
sentry

i closed my eyes
and i felt the sheets heavy with
plasma

i blinked and
everything turned to burgundy
the subway grates licked at my ankles

the poplar and elms
in firestone
laughed at me,

who had so eagerly
held on to a fray
consumed by mankind

gutted with
certain
toxicant.

3/18/2016
rockefeller college, princeton university

i was staring down the
barrel, the bottom of it
petting my past, an ewe

men looked at us
found nervous excuses:
"sorry," putting down coffee next to us

we scoffed,
made 'em nervous
i forgot what we were discussing

but white noticed a
stare and swiftly turning,
said "i'll be dead in three years anyway,"

that turned him around!
neck snap
"this is just like last year," she spoke

"yea, that's stupid isn't it"
i stepped over a wrapper
recalled i haven't been to princeton

since the summer
she told me that night
she wished she felt that way every day