cold morning, warm heart
and burning concrete beneath feet
that are tired of playing along
to the off-beat rhythm of the cars that pass
covering any other sound

and i contemplate the difference
between the ocean and the sea
in an effort to stop thinking

well, there it goes again
no matter the metaphor, i'm always full circle
swinging back into this pattern
looking for noise, looking for colour
looking for a distraction

distracted from myself, i turn
to speak to empty air, just trying
to start a conversation with less meaning
than the days have been holding for me

give me weather talk, give me politics
give me capital punishment, for crying out loud
give me something to debate
that will not affect me

and i contemplate the difference
between me and my feelings
in an effort to prove that they are
without a doubt
separate beings

cold morning, warm heart
beating away from my chest
as fast as it can

Even the word "alone" has the company of a page to be with.

She was so generous
that she left me with innumerable sorrows.

I was so selfish
that I couldn't give her anything but Love.



El egoísmo    

Ella era tan generosa
Que me dejó con incontables penas.  

Yo era tan egoísta  
Que no le pude dar nada excepto amor.

~


If I call you beautiful…

Do flowers bloom within your worried eyes
surrounding you with color, with thoughts
Looking past the mirror to that place you have been,
that you long to be again

Do you bite your lip,
looking within, seeking past the darkness,
subconsciously smoothing the ruffles of you dress,
shuffling your feet a bit

Do memories flood your mind
of days before lipstick and eye shadow,
when cute was as common as wrinkled nose smiles,
playing inside or out were your choices

Do you roll your eyes and sigh,
describing a portrait that only you can see,
a mirage of impressions you have collected,
stored away in that file you reach for regularly

Do you brand me blind or crazy at least,
point to that one tiny blemish you know,
turn and walk away kicking dust as you go,
shutting the door in disbelief

Or do you see your reflection in my eyes
the woman that you are to me,
hear the affection in my voice, the truth
and wrinkle your nose once more and say, “I love you”

I wouldn't mind it—
being the crayon color
that no one could name.

"I wish you well."
                                                          ­                    



                                         ­                                     (but not too well without me)

I row beneath you on the ancient lake,
Before sun arrives and after he is gone,
I will still be rowing even in my dreams,
Great yellow hills, my work is never done.