300 pounds,
Well-built,
Stumping on the dusty sand,
Golden chains fall off his neck,
Thick rings depart from a block of fingers,
Jo plunges into heavy waters,
Swims,
Boasts in his riches,
Disappears.

Would you love all the fat?
The fried chicken in his legs?
The alcohol filling his stomach,
To the point of exhaustion,
To the regret of a feeble button,
Too superficial,
Too excited,
To remain amongst the rest.

Do you know the weight of his soul?
200 lbs,
500 lbs,
He's got too much heart,
Much mass,
Tough skin.

Red guavas fall,
From trees all around us,
And land, victoriously, on the island of our palms,
A soft cushion, paler than the cracked pavement.

Give me a guava or two,
Let’s juggle, one at a time,
Right to left,
One fell, pick it up! C’mon!
Hand me a guava,
I will count them,
I will ensure you taste one,
That our teeth grind them,
With the delicacy of a tropical breeze.

Climb up the guava tree,
I'm already reaching for a pair,
Our mouths are full, there is guava on my lips,
On her lips,
On his lips,
On our lips, “may I help you?”

NO TRESPASSING,
Said a sign on the fence,
“Too late,” you said,
NO MORE GUAVA.

Me he recluido,
Mi habitacion es mi hábitat,
La ventana,
Lo que me separa de los turistas,
Los de pueblos lejanos que vienen a verme,
Los de acentros indescifrables,
Los que vienen a verme,
A mí,
Sol, Sola, Solita.

One of my curls delightfully wraps around his finger,
My hand reaches for his finger, sizes the awful curl,
A word of hate strikes the lover.

You love me, but what is love?
Love is patience,
Love is kindness,
Love is wise,
My love, we are none of those things,
Our love's impatient,
Our love's cruel,
Our love's foul.

See the flower in the desert?
Under the dreadful red sun,
See the petals as they fall?
That is our love.

For you,
M. L.

Llamaste.
Eran las 9,10,11,4,5,6,
Colgué el teléfono,
No logro conseguir el sueño,
“Tu padre está triste,”
Por favor, ya no llames más,
“Se entrecorta la llamada,”
Tu madre no deja de pensar en ti,
“Voy bajo un túnel.”

I know this isn't what you envisioned,
You feel like you've been driving for too long,
Under a blizzard, the heavy snow,
The windshield,
Nothing more than ice,
It's an infinite road,
You're just driving home,
And it's your birthday,
I know,
You just want to come home.

The first time I heard of cat cuts,
Was the first time I heard of gillette blades,
You carried one to defend yourself,
I searched the pockets of your tight jeans, Only to learn,
That some,
Some brave women,
Carry a handful.

I then looked at your bruises,
The red,
The scarred stripes on the back of your forearms,
I was disappointed,
I just didn't know,
About cat cuts & gillettes.

Less like home,
More like streets,
Mean streets,
In utter darkness,
Shutting on me,
Blessing me with encounters with the lowlife,
With the cold winters and the "too hot to bear" summers,
Down these mean streets,
I've been looking for the perfect corner,
That side of the street where shoppers stop by,
Because it reminds them of the old times,
When the city was a city,
And the streets were more than mean.

Everytime I come to this class,
She's there,
At the podium,
Expectant,
Then...SILENCE
The room's empty,
It's only the two of us,
I- you-I
I just stare,
Repeat my answer in my head,
Just twice,
I've reformulated the sentence,
Now a paragraph long,
As I open my mouth,
Everything goes pitch black,
Then, we're back,
Lights on,
They're all here,
Listening,
She looks at you,
As if the lights were always on,
She examines the room and quietly asks,
"Does anyone have anything to say?"
I-you-I say "I do,"
The lights go out.

Nunca he terminado nada,
Me emociona empezar,
Me da pereza terminar,
Hoy me he prometido terminarlo todo.

Las botas de piel sintética están allí,
En el lado oscuro del armario,
Enterradas, malolientes, ajenas a mí.

Están rotas, no, no las levantes,
No, no las brilles con los dedos, están mugrientas,
Miralas, mira las suelas, se van a esfumar.

Ah, sí, las botas,
Las traje para mí,
Para cuando tenga que marcharme.

No era lo que esperabas,
"Naciste fea,"
Alguna vez me confesaste,
"Luego, te arreglaste,"
Y si no,
"Si no me arreglé,
Si soy la misma,
Porque, madre,
Tú eres la misma."
Y si,
"Si cambié,
Si nací de nuevo,
Si una noche alguien me entró a tu viente,
Y en segundos,
Me arreglé."

Hoy, entre el reloj y la pantalla de mi computador,
Hoy, entre conversaciones grandiosas,
Hoy me preguntas si me creo el gran "Creador",
Te envío un mensaje envuelto en rosas secas,
"Tú eres la creación",
La grandiosa idea,
La meta,
La metida de pata,
La mera esperanza,
Pero...
Ya no creo en ti,
Pero, el creador tampoco cree en sí mismo,
Por ende,
En sí misma,
Vez?
No hay salida alguna,
Solo me queda volver a crear...

No sé por qué le escribo,
Quizás me da lástima,
Haberla dejado de lado,
Haberla defraudado,
No haber llegado a la meta,
Haberme quedado sin metas,
Con tristeza pura a mi alrededor,
Lo he olvidado todo,
Ya no recuerdo nada,
No encuentro nada,
Todo me da igual,
Por eso...
Ya no escribo más.

The ship's rocking on a blue sea,
It's one, two, three starts,
They're shining bright,
Just for me,
The wind, delighted by my vessel, dances,
Its hands, tightly around the simple maid,
She turned into a princess and left me,
Or, I left her,
As I swam underneath my ship,
I said,"Bon Voyage,"
And, at the top of my lungs,
I sang.

They both left,
Now they live with the starts,
I see them,
One,
Two,
Three,
There,
Bright as daylight.

Seis meses con la culpa,
Tú eres responsable,
Te he pintado de culpable,
No lo he dudado ni un segundo,
La culpa la tengo yo.

No debí confiar,
Me pasa por el descuido,
Que he tenido,
No te pido que te disculpes,
Nunca lo vas a hacer,
Solo quiero ya decirte,
No importa,
No me importa,
De verdad.

Una angustia infinita,
Un rostro trágico,
No hay razón alguna,
Somos perfectos,
Tú eres la imperfecta,
Te has hecho todo un ocho,
Solita te agonizas,
Solo te explicamos que eres un error,
Que te vistes como un vagabundo,
Que hablas en tonos deformes,
Que tienes gustos distintos,
Olvida la fémina,
Abraza lo normal,
Solías ser normal.

Despierto, duermo, despierto,
Un ciclo infinito,
Mis brazos enlazados,
Envueltos,
Mordidos por sábanas blancas,
Frazadas azules,
Mis propias piernas,
Soportan mi peso.

Boca abajo…
Duermo,
Me despierto,
Me arrepiento,
No conozco la razón,
Mucho menos el razonamiento terco,
Que me ha llevado a dormir en esta posición,
Protección,
Podría ser,
Pero ¿qué harán unos brazos débiles y unas piernas desnutridas?
Solo la muerte podría venir en defensa de un esqueleto.

Odio tu rostro,
Odio tu sonrisa,
Cuando me ridiculizas,
Te odio,
Cuando me gritas,
Te odio,
Cuando me criticas,
Cuando esperas que sea fuerte,
Cuando me escuchas llorar,
Te odio,
Quisiera ser la buena y no odiar,
Pero, en este mundo,
A los buenos nos quieren ahogar.

Malo,
No,
Bien mal,
Difiero de tu actitud constante,
La altitud de la frialdad de tu puño,
Me consta que te duele que me duela,
Lo haces, me haces, cenizas,
En la hoguera de mi cabeza,
Ya no hay leña,
Tú la arrojas sin razón,
Me pregunto,
Qué hacemos con el humo?
Me incendio,
Por qué?
Repito,
Me apagas,
Me enciendes,
Razón alguna?
No hay.

You made me,
I am you,
More than you are yourself,
I want you,
To see me,
I'm breaking,
No, I don't want cake,
I want cold cake,
I want ice in my mouth,
Cool down,
I'm falling,
See,
I,
Can't smile,
It's all ice here.

After a while, I realized,
My mind was quite aloft,
All the daydreaming, the crying,
The cursing in between dreams,
So bleak, so dark, so tasteless,
So easy to forget, but so notoriously present,
I no longer sleep at night,
Instead, I sleep with my eyes wide open,
In bare daylight,
I marvel at the talent I've cultivated,
Or, at least, at the unspoken ability that,
The little girl that I once was has resorted to,
Just to bear one more day,
Only one more.

Why do people get louder when they are misunderstood?
Maybe each syllable becomes W  I  D  E  R, TALLER, simpler,
Maybe the alarming noise opens a path for the important,
Maybe there is no reason at all,
Maybe there is an element of Guernica in it,
Maybe, just like Picasso ... they just do it.

Levanto,
Preguntas,
Son tuyas.

Las echo al mar,
Les digo,
"Vayan a otro destino,"
Me pregunto si al preguntar,
Alguna vez, te has preguntado cómo se siente ser cuestionada,
Por ser real.

Me siento a pensar,
Me siento perdida,
Ensillada en tus pensamientos,
Aquellos árboles secos,
Aquellos ríos extintos,
No hay fruto en tu mente,
Solo sequía.

I am running water,
Held at the waist by a sweet dam,
Silenced by fighting leaves,
****** in my direction by the whirling wind,
Everything reflects on me,
My waters wonder, "who am I?"
For my reflection, I don't see,
I see a mockingbird atop a tree,
I see the white sun above me,
I see the world as I experience it,
Bleak,
Can it see me?

Caigo,
Modo torbellino,
El aire presiona mi piel,
La lastima,
Me retuerce,
Caigo a un agujero infinito,
Veo a mi otra yo,
Arriba,
Contenta,
Me mira y se despide.

~THERAPY~
I sit on an aging sofa,
Facing an old-fashioned clock on the wall,
It's finally 3:00,
My therapist sits on a leather chair,
Looks down at her notes,
As if her scribbles had any relevance to my problems,
"Well, how's home?"
I answer the same questions,
"You have plans for the holidays, right?"
I lie,
I smile,
I try to be funny,
That's all I can do.

Truth is,
I've been bouncing from home to home,
My parents and their respective partners hate me,
"I got a teaching job,"
I don't know if I signed the contract because I love children,
Or because I needed to get a place of my own,
My last meal was a day ago, 10am to be exact,
Well,
"How's home?"
Is this a trick question?

Lately,
I've been acting stupid,
I've been in bed,
Buried under pastel sheets,
Thinking of that time,
When I was so afraid of heights,
But I still put the harness on,
They pushed me into the woods,
Someone got stuck,
I kept going,
I kept acting stupid,
I laughed it off,
I shouldn't have.

Nothing,
Nothing compares...
To the sight of a cold corpse,
Dry tulips atop a lustered rectangle,
A box for the truth,
A cell for the dead,
The sound of bells from a nearby wedding,
The cries of babies on tired arms,
The smell of a dusty church,
Burning in the middle of a December afternoon.

I hold a rosary,
More for the living than for the dead,
For the living are often dead,
And the dead are often living,
Maybe we'll meet someday,
Say your last goodbye,
It's time to go,
Bury the dead,
Go on with the living,
Hide the truth under the soil,
But know that it will grow again,
You'll see it in fresh cut tulips,
The white sun will remind you,
The breeze will whisper my name,
Syllable by syllable,
My name will haunt you.

I've straightened my hair,
Curled it with wands,
Burned my fingers,
Tasted my shiny red lips,
Left them dry,
Seen the dead skin fall like autumn leaves,
Thinking "mommy wouldn't approve."

I've done my nails,
Painted them black,
Yellow,
Purple,
And all shades of blue.

I've pressed magazine pages on my cuticles,
Hoping some words would stick,
perhaps a "cool," "posh," "dandy," little word.

I've worn tight jeans,
Mommy jeans,
My mother's 80's clothes,
I've worn black dresses,
Those with sequins,
Those without'em, too.

And each time,
I've tried to be...someone,
Just anyone.

I never tried being me.

My mind is asleep,
I can't complete simple tasks,
I’m tired,
Early morning,
Late at night,
Time don’t mean a thing,
For I am under an evil lullaby,
There’s no moment,
There's no time,
Just a continuum,
Of flashbacks,
Old memories that keep stimulating my interest,
Or interests that stimulate early memories,
As I look at the supercut of passing scenes from my twin bed.

My dad drove me there,
Well, he didn't mean to,
He drove me around the city,
It was a purple afternoon,
An orange hue consumed it all,
The sky ended up looking grotesque,
And, there it was,
The ice cream shop,
2006,
6 PM,
Grandpa drove me there,
He got a cone,
I got a small cup with three scoops,
The whole thing's now for sale,
Dilapidated,
It stands still.

When you take off your glasses,
And all you see is meaningless traces,
Shapes that you once saw from a distance ... on a moving train,
Bubbles full of color mingle with your surroundings,
Everything looks beautiful; magical,
You know that only you can see this the way you do.

Toma de mí,
Bebe mi mano,
Mi brazo,
Enlazo mis piernas,
No temas,
Solo,
Toma de mí.

Pierde la cordura,
Embriagate en mí,
Pero, entre ensueño,
Tócame a mí,
Como la lira,
Con los dedos entre cuerdas,
Cantándome tu canción.

Eyes shuttered,
Red curtains,
A downfall,
Your eye bags,
They...don't hide,
That you're breaking,
Breaking day by day,
Breaking every time,
Every time they mutter that word,
Every time they look at you,
As if you were not good enough,
Smart enough,
Humble enough,
Pure enough,
You're breaking,
But, just a little bit,
But, dear, everyone is,
BREAKING, just a little bit.

So, you came closer,
You faced me, fearless,
You tilted my chin with your finger,
I faced you, fearless,
I looked you in the eye,
You smiled,
I smiled back at you,
The bell rang,
I forgot about it, did you?

Afraid, trembling,
They have us,
Cornered,
They challenge,
Values,
Long upheld,
Long forgotten,
Long established,
To erase the few,
That don't fit,
That don't think,
The same,
That don't hum,
The songs we've taught our children.

Oh, are we afraid?
Yes, we are afraid,
Of the unknown,
What are they capable of?
Erasing family ties with unchanging love,
Painting our walls with colorful lust,
What are they capable of?

Te imagino,
Fumándote un cigarro,
Con los tatuajes marcados en el pecho
Al aire,
Mirándome de lejos,
Pensando en mí.

We treassure the clear view,
No obstacles,
No distractions,
No free wandering of the mind.

Today, I say, let it fly,
Above snow white mountaintops,
Above the city of New York,
Above the worst landfills,
For gravity only exists to challenge it,
To, within the ignorance of a Newton,
Devour the sweetness of a fig.

At dusk I rise,
Tiptoes lift me,
Passing shadows guide me,
I'm in darkness,
Running,
Spreading my arms out,
Reaching for safety.

I pray to passions,
Unnatural ones,
Those no one's spoken about,
Those of another world,
Where we embrace in silence,
Without the least of regrets.

I sometimes dream of you,
Light comes in,
I am awakened,
We do what lovers do,
Or, perhaps, what lovers don't do,
We stare at each other for hours,
There's no kissing,
No hugging,
No touch,
Just words ... and light,
You are the most dreadful word in my native tongue,
"This cannot be,"
You say slowly,
I agree,
You are just a dream.

"You'll go to hell," my mother said,
What is hell?
What is heaven?
Does it all matter?
The difference.

My heart was pried open,
You came in to love me,
My heart smiled,
At your loveliness,
To your rhythmic sounds,
It danced,
Love, hell. I guess, I'll see you there.

Estoy pensando en exceso,
Creo que me va a matar,
Quisiera matar el pensamiento,
Espantarlo,
Asustarlo,
Solo por un minuto de soledad.

Drilling into my skull,
As a chip in my brain,
Your image stays,
It is stale.

On this cold night,
With blurry stars on my face,
I see you again,
Your brown curls entangle my senses,
Your green eyes take me to a jungle,
I land on the green canopy,
Where the sun meets the dark soil,
Where the creation of your heart lies.

Let me explore your jungle,
Deliberately shake your palms,
Hang on a crooked branch,
Wait for a warm rain,
Burn with the first rays of sunlight,
Swim your rivers without care,
Turn savage again.

Sadness the crow held to the thinnest branch of a tree,
Vigilant, the bird saw me and said "hello" with a song,
I had no words, for I was cold and felt a large lump in my throat,
I walked the park in search for a green bench,
And there he was, I knew him,
It was Mr. Pain, "oh, dear friend!"
He embraced me and wrapped me in a paternal hug,
"Long time no see!"
Pain and I were long lost friends,
Our friendship sparked when I was fifteen,
He would visit me in the afternoon,
He was there for me when my mom was away,
Pain, "oh, how I've missed you, old friend!"
His eyes were darker than I remembered,
Two black holes placed on a disfigured face,
"I want to introduce you to my beautiful crow," he said,
As he caressed the head of the bird, he uttered the name of his pet, "Sadness, that's it!"
We spent the afternoon catching up,
Just like the old days.

I'm afraid of being the center of attention,
I fear the pale spotlight,
The coldness of the stage,
The rhythmic applause...echoing,
I fear being examined,
Maybe because I have been scrutinized before,
Not by a doctor or a lover,
No, not by any of those,
But by my creators,
The ones who promised to love me,
UNCONDITIONALLY,
Until now,
Until nine months ago,
Until that call,
The call that stopped my heartbeat,
Induced me in a dangerous ride,
The call that told you the truth,
About me,
About her,
About you,
Maybe you already knew it,
You saw it coming,
Right then,
When you held the phone to your ear,
With its broken screen,
In speaker mode,
Right then,
I was hit by the light above the stage,
And, just then...
It all came to me,
Full circle.

I feel numb,
Most of the time,
But then, again,
I'm asleep,
Most of the time,
Immersed in nightmares,
I saw you last night,
When I woke up,
I kept inspecting my sheets,
You were there,
In my dreams,
In my arms,
Wrapped in my purple sheets,
I kept looking,
All day,
Then, as I walked back home,
Something turned off,
I swear I felt it,
I just don't know what that something was.

I still tell them I loved you,
I did, once, I thought of you,
Very deeply,
With a sharp sensitivity,
With a wide smile,
As I recalled our afternoon talks,
The look in your eyes,
That spark that conveyed admiration,
You always said I was strong,
I always said I was clueless,
That was why I was strong,
Because,
Every morning I would wake up thinking,
Of nothing more than leaving,
For a better place,
Far, beyond your dreams,
Beyond the stars that you so much loved,
I wanted to end it,
My life,
But you always told me...how strong I was,
I know I haven't told you this, but I, I loved you once.