That night we were perfectly irrational,

your mother spoke like Rhea in an ancient

Greek tongue. We straddled the mighty
Norton five-hundred and joked of Marxist revolution.


She tightened her arms on the ascent.
Danger flurried down our spines and palms

began to sweat. At breakneck speed we whipped

round snaking grey meanders along the cliff edge.


Our compass set in lunar chatoyance

the stars were squinting feline lovers

as the night light washed upon her eyelids,

lashed with jagged stalactitic silhouettes.

We coasted down a sandy path; emerging from the hills

where the shepherds’ ruby grins were the nights hue.

Hearts cast in iron and minds sat on sand,
the sky snapped pink to blue, to navy dogtooth.


The spider grass on the dunes, the mirage

of twisting dancers and sand storm pirouettes.

Full beams off, we’d blink and stand amazed,

that very trace of privacy at night


which leaves you dazed, for unlike the crowded

light of day which knows no heart nor wonderment

moonlight dances on the pier, and bounces off the waves.

My first born son who parts the fog and clouds


to carry primal thunder; I gift to you,

the joy of life, and beauty of the oceans wealth.

The sand will bed and water cleanse,

the tide will carry and coral mend.


Until you, La Pedarosa of the floating world,

may sail over those who tell of any boat

you cannot sink and any fleet you cannot fell.

As I descend the stairs at night
The pictures come alive
In my mind
And the creatures in my head
Crawl from behind the blinds
And shrink across the floor
And materialize through doors
And the paintings on the walls
The little boys and girls creep out
But their smiling faces
Have been left behind in the world
Of which they just hopped out.
All the the movies and stories that I’ve read
The scary ones that one should never read in bed
Play out before my eyes
In my mind
But the mind is more powerful in the dark of night
And what would normally stay inside my head
Now is just as tangible as that being said.
Mirrors and windows and dark little corners
And cupboards and closets, the air slightly warmer.
I’d close my eyes
But it only gets worse
Because the pictures in my head
Just grow and they seem to get larger
They expand and the twist and morph into worse
Than the scariest stories is movies or books
I feel across the wall for a light switch
And I could swear a felt a touch
Oh my gosh i breathe hush brain hush
It was only my cat
But I swear I’ll get him in the morning for that.
Every turn of my head fills me with dread
And every slight noise has me running for the covers of my bed.
My fingers creep across the wall in desperate search of the light
But I hit something unfamiliar
The texture not right
Oh my gosh dad...you put tape over the light?
Now, what am i supposed to do
The other switch on the opposite side of the room?
I take a deep breathe
And with all my speed I dash
And hit the wall with undeniable force
And again scan the wall with my hands to find what I search.
Finally the light flicks on and I let out my breathe
that realize i’ve been holding from I don’t know when since.
Everything that played out in the dark of the night
Has faded away with the replacement of light.
I grab my phone and again hit the light
And dash upstairs with all my might.
Oh my gosh.
I’m alright.

I am oh so very frustrated,
Every time that I pray.
I hope so hard there is a god,
I’ve convinced myself there must be a way.

This life I life cannot be the end.
I cannot live deprived of plans,
Crafted and mulled over in my creator’s mighty hands.
I need to have a purpose.
I don’t want to live for just a life.
And what’s the point
In pressing on for just worldly strife?

If no god exists,
Then when I die,
I’m neither here nor anywhere,
Indefinitely interred in the earth.
My condemnation record bare.

If there is no god above,
There is no wrong or right.
There is no sadness in a death,
If all there is, is day and night.

When I close my eyes and cry,
It’s not because I pray.
It’s my hands clasped in desperate frustration,
Hoping that I will find my god someday.

The sea stood up a giant tide

And turned towards man’s joy and pride

Now see the buildings lifted ride

And over fields and bridges glide

The few who watched from hilltops cried

The works of man are swept aside

And there is nowhere left to hide

For on this day man’s ego died

Listen
to these green plants
pleading
beseeching

you would think
they'd be used to it by now
but every year the same old thing

look the rain is finished folks
you're on your own now
nine months before the next shower

this is how leaves suffocate
see the gray dust clogging their pores
hear them choking
under a wind thrown blanket
this is how they drown

brittle and crackling the grasses
soon the weight
of a starving grasshopper
will be enough to snap
them

shrubs will dump
their curled up castoffs
earthwards
scribbled twigs alone
will remain

from now on
only the thieving airplants
will thrive
viral invaders
******* sap from reluctant hosts
who can ill afford
to accommodate them

now patient rocks
are emerging from cover
each a palette of vivid lichens
sundecks for snakes and lizards
now that the clamouring grass
is gone

the land lies baking
withdrawn
curling
into herself

even the air
sighs
slumps

soon fire will come
to cannibalise
the undergrowth
play chasey
through the dry grass
send ants scurrying
downstairs
flip a nod
to the big old cactuses
tickle the toes
of the mesquites-
who will stand stoic
observing the pillage
around their hot feet
and shrug
resigned
seen it all before
they are above it all really

fire
will play homage
to their indifference
lay down
a black velvet carpet


wind
will whistle up
tiny tornadoes of ash
to pirouette
and perish

everyone
will accept the inevitable
eventually
and just knuckle down
to wait it out

in a state of trance
floating
                  on a dream
                                      of rain



Tricia Lambert
Mexico
Nov 2010

She sits alone,
on a cleared patch of road
amidst utter devastation
legs bare
feet bare
knees bent
hands clasped around her thighs
she has taken off her scarlet boots
and placed them together beside her
a tiny mark of order
it is all she can do
place her boots
side by side on the road

Apocalypse Now
reads the Headline
And this
I can finally comprehend

10,000 dead-
that’s my whole town
and 3000 more-
10,000 dead
is hard to grasp
but this one young woman
could be my daughter
or my grandchild
her hair dyed
fashionably orange
fashion mattered yesterday
to her and her friends
where are they now
did they survive
behind her
broken houses
twisted metal
a mountain of rubble
nothing recognisable


I look at this image
and I see her rocking
I see her mouth open
a wail of anguish
I hear her
wail
wailing is
the same in any language
needs no translation
palpable anguish
I hear her wail
she alone shows me
what it means
the agony of
10000 dead

what next
where
how

Snapping at me
Glimmering for but a second
Like the muffled sun
In the dead winter
Lingering
Unwilling to love

I stand
A shivering heap of man
Clutching no one
Writhing in agony
Praying for salvation
From dead winter

Slowly
As the season changes
The warmth returns
The sun no longer muffled
Banishing the cold
Back into it's season
And as dead winter fades
So shall my memories
Of you

I have no bills for *****. My teenage dreams are shattered.
My presence in this thin veil of life depends on if I'm hammered.
But I have no dollars, no coins or even checks.
I can't buy any blue moon, ***** or any becks.

My addiction to acceptance leaves hanging dry.
I need to drink anything, wheat, potato or rye.
The grain doesn't matter, the proof is nothing real.
I'll make it up in quantity, I might even steal.

My friends are all awaiting. My reputation still on hold.
I need some money for my *****, oh wait, no I don't.
I'm not that insecure, and I have not an addiction.
But **** it man, I want to drink, and money is an affliction.