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i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body.  i like what it does,
i like its hows.  i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new
The swallows that return
Are limping when they fly
The swallows that were burned
Will limp 'til they die

And when they visit me
They pluck about my eyes,
Aiming for my lips
They miss them every time

Defectively, I lost my vision
So when I feel about the world
Looking for miraculous mission
I come up almost empty-handed

My hands are full of blood instead
Punctured from the sandbox trees
That I thought were oaks of red.
It was illusion and deception

By now,

The eyes should have healed
The lips should have pecked
The hands should have grasped
Onto whatever is coming next

That, too, is an illusion, a deception
But I am too blind to know
Oh the naivete in my own eyes
Bursting with purpose
It's tangible, palpable
Like the jelly in a too-full sandwich

I am more me than yesterday
And the day before

I have lost parts
And rebuilt with the remainder
I have developed
And found fluid foundation

I was once both the crushing hand
And the cocoon within it
Now I am the blossomed
And the released

I've let go
And I have found myself
the original draft in English of my last poem
Que ingenuidad tenian mis ojos
Que brillaban con el propósito
Que fue tangible, abundoso
Como la fuga de un apósito

Hoy soy más de mí que ayer
Y incluso más que anteayer

He perdido partes de mí
Y con ellas he reedificado
Me he desarrolado aparte de tí
Y una base fluida he encontrado

Habia una vez en que yo era la mano que aplastaba
Y también era yo la larva que estuvo llevado
Pero ya no soy esa mariposa que se mataba
Ahora soy el florecido y el liberado

Me he soltado
Me he encontrado
tal vez publicaré la versión inglesa de esta poema
tal vez no
"summer slipping"
is too kind a metaphor

today she was ripped from me
written (or i guess thought of) on 8/17/18
Is dancing
Is sidestepping
Is moving one's body
Is having something you want
Is being willing to give it away
Is congratulating a job well done
Is patience

But above all,
Teaching is dancing
this was the original idea behind the Spanish version of this poem, which can be found somewhere on my profile
The scariest number
Screams to be spoken
If spoken, it lives

Is prophecy

it thrills me
And terrifies alike
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