If I knew I could have you
in a dark alley way,
behind a Latino
club, Desperado's
or something rather,
without any passerby,

no cop in sight,

I'd still decline

You see, it's not the opportunity
I want to sieze, but the heart
I want to freeze, and burn
it down like a suburban house;

and set ablaze all the green

If I knew I could fill your belly
with one, no two,

please you with
three little seeds

I'd refuse, give up,
sign off and leave

Tuck you like a memory
in the back of my jeans,
au revoir, Nacadoches;

My sweet American diet,
c'est la vie

For I am only a finite
creature, on the brink
of immortality

You could do without the
deceit, mi carnal amor,

with velvet blue sky
under your precious feet.

I'd give you all the passwords
to every account I've made online
if I knew for sure
there wasn't already a way
to access them

I'd prefer to shed
light on every dark
secret of mine if it
kept you close to my
mind, trapped
for all time

We're tangled
knots of misfortune;

such is the fate
of rosebuds
with sharp
emerald veins

And here I thought
we'd make it further
then I ever dreamt possible

Past the threshold
where the sun
greets the unknown
and shines a light
upon it

as though

it were never lost at all.

You're at your desk, sitting
on your favorite wooden
stool; the one with
the diamond shaped
chip on it's side

The sound of your
fingers dancing
across squared
platforms of symbols

and digits

A woman's voice can be
heard in the background;
as well as the clanking
of porcelain against
aluminum (all doused
in what seems
to be water)

You're a woman yourself,

But this doesn't bother you
in the least; because outside
the skin, inside the marrow,
flows an everlasting glow

the kind that gets you up
morning after morning;
gives you permission to
go, love, cherish

and hold

And as you get up from the desk,
the sun shining through the windowpane,
your blouse is lifted, revealing
a diamond shaped scar;

the only one you used to
despise having as a
child

I suppose what aches
the heart is a competitive
mind;

It's never win or lose,
but somehow feels mores
like the latter.

With dreams, come
the scenery of futures.

You close your eyes
and it's like you're there again;

crying over another broken heart,
or
better yet,
mourning over a father
who let the needle
love him too deep.

The mind is not
for or against
the concrete reality.

It persists
to perceive.

And what aches
the heart
is the breath
that competes.

It's like a boil on your favorite finger.

The scarlet liquid reaches
a tipping point
and when the ***
is about to spill
a hand, seemingly out of nowhere,
reaches out to catch it.

An open hand
is still an open hand
despite it being
melted right down to
it's bone.

No one want to love
and lose.

What has flesh taught us
but to let the skeleton
feel safe and comfortable
for the time being.

"We're all soldiers now"

And the blanket
comforts the child
one last time
before she
becomes the woman
she was meant to be.

You're my grandmother.

A statue at the sewing table.

There is nothing there

but the fabric of faded

womanhood;

your history is embedded deeply.

It's too late to make up for lost time.

Yet, I still mention your name

when I am writing sadness

across these walls.

Has what little joy

you kneaded into my

sides been torn away already?

You were my grandmother,

now swaying beneath the clouds

with skinny branches;

as though you were asking

for one last hug before you depart.

Shadow object
of destiny;

guide me
into the
multicolored light
at the end of
this dark tunnel
of mine

There is no
humor and sadness
to speak of;

only what is perceived
by two flickering
vessels of black
and white;

Even then,
the mind can
be so hard to trust
at times

Or so
I find.