Men don't look at me with passion and love.
They look at me with lust and doubtful eyes,
because of my round hips, and small shoulders,
that I inherited from my mother,
and her mother before that.
Fourteen years old, i'm no longer just a skinny girl.
And growing up all I've ever heard,
is I'm blessed to have this body, to have this face.
As if that's the only thing I've got to chase.
As if that's the only thing I've got going for me;
so I was taught that beauty is the only thing I've got.  
27 years old, my family wonders why
I've got no boyfriend,
no husband, no family of my own,
when all my sisters, when all my cousins are all married
and i'm still alone. 27 years old, i'm crying in my room.
Men always seek a pretty face but never a soul,
that's what I tell them, after being repeatedly
asked why i'm always alone.
And I refuse to give up my body,
to give up my touch, to anybody that's more attracted
to my face than my
whats inside my head.
I'm more than just an over sexualized body, I'm more
than just a pair of big eyes and a pretty face.
I'm a hard working woman, who's gained consciousness
through her soul. I'm a late night on a roof top looking at
the stars and writing about the moon.
I'm a long conversation about the universe,
sipping wine underneath a black sky.  I'm all my broken
hearts and all my wishful dreams.
I'm a woman with a heart and soul like no other. I'm
everything and I'm nothing at all, but please never just
lust and fire.


*Sandoval

and out of the very
corner of her aging eye
a younger ****
from far away
makes an overture of unknown nature
the novelty alone stops the bus
and all the old women on board
clutch their large handbags
close to their sides and say aloud:
what does this mean?

maybe nothing at all
maybe just what it looks like
maybe it is the Universe come calling
placing a new plate of wets in a new location
in a new form on a new platter

soon, her nose will take over
and she will know to eat or not
and what to think about it all

there isn't really anything to fear
the bus is still moving in the right direction
how could it not, as beautiful as it is
stop now and then
and garner new riders
the ones that see the color
and hear the music
and how is there not
a rightful place for one and all?

that is a given.
there is no problem
it is love itself
dancing through the mirror or self to self
and in the end
nothing at all but
a blessing

i run when things get too much
and everything feels this way now
so please
if you love me
don't let me run
i just need to walk
i need to move slower
don't move too fast

singing songs in my head
reminding me of days
long dead, lives lived and lost
all that remains is the moss
shed from the stone rolling away
penny thoughts and diamond dreams
written on forgotten reams of parchment fine
vellum too, written when the dodo's ruled the zoo
words so divine, sieved through linen fine
stitched in dainty tapestry, told to me by a flea
given to him by a dog, barking mad, or mad barking
wisdom begining at a silly place, is still wisdom
if given from lessons learnt in strife.
life your life, in love, love your life and live