icy shards are left in
my heart: once
it was filled with the
soft radiance of something
special;
you: an icicle piercing
on my heart insistently
until you yanked it
With your own words. it was to be
a heap of pieces of abrasions
littering at my feet; yet it melted
into a cooling puddle of water

If I had to give my son advice,
To, on his little life, shed light:
I'd say don't do drugs, and if you do.
Do Class C in the mornings,
And Class A's at night.
If you're gonna do it, do it right.

If I had to give my son advice,
To save his little heart from pain:
I'd say never love at a distance;
Your heart will succumb to a lonely bind.
For words, are far too nervous,
and probably won't get there on time.

If I had to give my son advice,
So his smile remains a genuine jewel,
I'd say be sure to marry a writer.
Smile as much as you possibly can,
And if they feel it worth defending
They will rewrite, and edit out your problems,
And give you a happy ending.

Hello mother I wanted to take a moment to say,
That I'm not quite as bothered on this eleventh of may,
Although your body is gone I know you are around,
I can feel you in the sun , I can hear you in all sounds,
Your time seemed short and my pain seemed endless,
I wrote your name on the top of my wish list,
I can finally speak your name and think of good times,
If theres any light in me you're the reason I shine,
So proud to be your son, so proud to share your blood,
Your love sweeps away my worry like a cleansing kindness flood,
I can think back and learn from the things you've said,
I choose to only remember the laughter instead,
You fill my heart with joy,
I'm still your little boy,
Although I was only apart of your time,
You were my whole life and apart of all of mine,
I miss you just as much as if it happened a second ago,
But I'm finally ok with what I've come to know,
Hello mother I just wanted to take a moment to say,
I think of you every moment and happy mother's day.

How I adore your nerve
when you kissed me in your closet upon sheets made of legos
and all of your childhood dreams.
How easy I am for you to draw when you play on stage the song that you wrote me,
The one that feels like rock climbing by the river,
Like naps in the summer when I drool on your chest and you don't mind,
Like kissing you until the very last minute of my curfew,
only to break it for the miracle that is your lips.
How alluring is your breath on my neck,
Your voice in my ear when you told me that you loved me
and you didn't stop smiling,
even as the years went by and I did.
How I craved, longed, begged for time to be still
the time you took me to the highest hill you could drive to,
You called it my mountain.
"At first, you look at it and it's so small,
but once you notice it, it's all you can see," you said.
How my stomach floods with waves of nostalgia and a taste
of everything I've ever had to live without,
With complete and utter spell-binded devotion at the simple familiarity
of your smell.
How addicted I am to your laugh when you're happy and
the mastered impression you do of your mom.
How weak I am to your intellect and your appreciation of literature
and real music,
Your enthusiasm for art and the "name that note" game you force upon me
as you stumble onto the classical radio station.
How in love I am with your romance that is as childish as my attachment
to my baby blankie and my mother's childhood walrus that you never ceased to insult.
Our pajama day that we decided over our prom,
When we turned on John Mayer and slow danced in your room.
Your idea of a date consisted of fake wine and me.
How incredibly warm are the coldest of nights,
On the side of your dirt road as we lie in the snow that is too cold for comfort,
yet holds us there with the fear that one day will not look the same as this one
and I would bear any amount of cold winter to keep one more moment of yours.
How I cherish the way you latch my pinky with yours when we walk
And the face you don't know you make when you play guitar.
The rooftop where you kissed me for the very first time and the string rings
we wore to remind each other we were still there.
How incredibly and unfortunately devout I am to all that I remember of you.

Sometimes I can't explain the way I feel in my heart.          Because the words are sometimes hard to find and I don't know where to start.                                                           ­                                             But none of that seemed to matter as the two of us spoke the other day.                                                             ­                                      It was like I always knew you and I knew everything to say.    
You have this natural essence about you that in most women is hard to find.                                                            ­                             Plus everything about you says you have a heart that's kind. During the time that we were talking I knew we would meet again.                                                           ­                                   
 Because it seemed like both of us wanted for that talk to never end.                                                             ­                                                So as I sit here and write to you, The words just seem to flow.  
                                                                ­                                                 And although we just met there's no need to take things slow. This feels like the start of something special. its been a wonderful way to begin.                                                           ­           And my heart tells me that this feels right because I just met a new wonderful friend.                                                          ­             True friends are often hard to find so when I met you it seemed surreal.                                                         ­                                         
But the true essence of your spirit told me that you were real.  
So I hope we'll let time determine whether or not we were meant to be.                                                              ­                                    But whatever happens at the end of it all you will still be a friend
to me.     R. Mendoza

i wish to unmeet you
         only to meet you again.

Life is a maze
and some will
always get lost....

He had the voice you see,
the timing and the just pause.
He knew how to colour and stretch
a word, just so.
He wrote quiet rhymes:
I’m a winder
(he wrote,
writing as a river).
I love to wander.
Every day I’m different
with stories to tell
of wild otter huntings
and crisp frozen winters.