The girl that I like is young, quite petite, I might add
Bluish-greenish turquoise eyes, like the forest and the sea combined
Her voice, a sweet, gentle overtone; the ocean, calm waves that reach ashore
The breeze, blows the forest trees; a rustle, soothing to the human ears
Her skin that luminesces; the white sands of the Riviera Maya
Here and there, little sprinkles of darker sand on her pretty face
Her natural dark, red hair, as fiery as the midday sun,
And her lips a vibrant red, that melt you in the summer days,
So warm and cozy as the winter rays.

I eat tacos
I watch a yellowed tree
A leaf falls to the bottom
Like a taco falls into my stomach

Eline Dandelion

My dandelion, everywhere in spring and summer days, you are present
Soft is your tender touch when I drag you close to me
Oh dandelion, your beautiful cotton hair, like the aroma of red roses in the air,
It enamours me when I breathe it in,
And the wind that carries its aroma waltzes with enchantment to the tune of Lara’s Farolito
Dandelion, you are the flower that is ever present
Your light and gentle body occupies the dreams of my arms, wishing to hold your delicate, light frame.
Your seeds of love have long ago landed on my mind,
And I have planted them, too, in my heart so that this heart only beat for you.
But these seed are like any other seeds.
The farther away you are, the less likely they will grow, and flowers wilt
The closer you are, the more beautiful the flowers become, bloom.
Eline Dandelion, of all the other flowers and even dandelions, you are my favorite dandelion.

The ice floats atop the river
The snow falls as fast as hail
And little by little the river freezes

I imagine petals of light pink roses or of cherry blossoms gliding in the air
Slowly, they turn and fall, gliding through the empty space

I see a pretty woman, with mesmerizing hair and pretty ears and earlobes, sitting there, in a pink dress and with an elegant white hat
Her hair is pulled back into a knot and she plays with little flowers dancing with the wind
I cannot see her face, but I know that she is beautiful and I know that I feel something for her
Perhaps she has blue eyes and small pink lips
Or possibly she has penetrating dark eyes and luscious lips

This woman, is surrounded by the pink petals
Flowing with the gusts of wind that blow the pink dress and white hat

Hundreds, thousands of petals that surround her like little butterflies in the time of love,
Turn and swirl freely, spinning vertically and horizontally
They fall and fall, as if from trees atop the clouds that hang above
But then they rise, too, can you see? Rising, flowing, going everywhere with the waves of blowing air
The lady holds her hat and grabs a petal that far-off mountains and the trees, the rivers and the streams, dedicate to her.
The petal, smooth and delicate, a reflection of her tender hands
The petal, pleasantly aromatic like her fragrance
The petal, soft with subtle shades of pink, a reflection of her gentle nature and all things that surround her being

Lost in my thoughts, I imagine a fragrant atmosphere, with scent of pink rose petals,
And there, a sweet and pretty woman sits surrounded by floating petals in the air.

Love is like a dream, so real and unbelievable
It is pure magical realism and surrealism combined
Pinch me if I'm dreaming, pinch me if I'm in love,
For I can no longer distinguish both

I can fly and am omnipotent in dreams,
But I never sleep, and feel powerful when in love
I love her, and she loves me
Everything's a fantasy

I dream and everything is sublime
I can breathe underwater,
I can breathe in space
The stars right before my eyes,
They come, in various shapes and colours,
Like the little fireworks above our heads
When we stare deeply into our eyes,
Stares that melt the heart like clocks inside our minds

Imagine if we fall in love inside our dreams
It would be a layer of inception that repeats infinitely
We dream and love, love and dream, dream and love
And if we ever wake, the memories will remain
So real and surreal that makes us doubt if the memory is real or if what's real is unreal
Did it happen, or did it not happen?
Was it love? Was it a dream?
That is why I say, Love is like a dream.

I have a small bed
I lie in my little bed tonight
I don’t need a bigger bed because there is no second body to occupy the extra space
Extra sheets are necessary because there is no second body to warm my own
If I had a lover in my bed, our legs would intertwine and our arms would wrap around each other.
If I had a lover in my bed, the lonely, quiet night wouldn’t hear my thoughts…
But the noise of my voice and her voice, and little sounds that we make when our bodies clasp.
But the night is lonely, and it is cold, and my bed is still small.

Yet, I lie on the edge of this little bed, and behind me there lies empty space.
Does my mattress hear nothing but my thoughts, and feel nothing but my shaking body,
That it dares to make that little space for another?
It is enough space for a lover, yet there is no weight—only empty space.

My head, only owner of my thoughts, rests upon the pillow that has only felt a warm spot at a time
There is little that my eyes can see as I stare into nothingness, only darkness
Scattered light that penetrates from tiny holes of window curtains fades within the blackness
Blackness?
My eyes close and no one whispering behind my ear, only metal springs that my ears can hear
I am scared, but my arms and ribs tremble not of fear but of solitude,
A solitude that will crawl up in my bed in the middle of the night
Cold and figureless, ******* up little by little the remnants of my life
And yet, this bed doesn’t fear, for it waits for the second warm spot on the pillow.
Perhaps my dreams deceive it, but can it not see that they are but figments of the mind?
Perhaps I’ve deceived it, when it hears my thoughts on these cold, solitary nights.

Now, no light can penetrate these lids, for they’ve been seduced by midnight sleep
No second to wrap around, only solitude will intertwine
Now, no blankets can warm this back, for the warm lover hands never came
And so, I can only lie and put my thoughts to rest in my cold, lonely, little bed…

The morning rise is beautiful in the maturing spring
As the sun rises, the sky is painted with the color blue
The birds flock from the horizon, from which long, thin clouds stretch,
Softening the sun rays
Slowly, cars begin to cross the streets,
Their owners ready to begin their day,
Drinking cups of coffee that fill the air with morning essence
To bring the early day alight.

Rain, rain, rain
My friend
Child of the heavens, that falls upon the earth and vast oceans
Rain
Rain upon the green leaves of trees and wet their trunks and barks.
Rain upon the flowers that have blossomed
from your mother’s *****.
Instill life on lakes and river beds, their streams
that dry when you don’t come.

Catch a couple holding hands, and rain
Shower them
Closer they will come, under his umbrella they will hide
Where their hearts will touch.
Let him smell the aroma of her silky hair
That will drug him like *******
Full of love and passion he will stare
At the sparkle of her stare
Drag them closer even more,
Pour.
Sprinkle a droplet onto her nose,
And let him wipe it softly with his thumb
And kiss it gently with the lips of his mouth
For now, here your job is done.

Rain, rain, rain,
My friend,
Rain.

Rain enough to make a paradise,
But wait for the old man that plows his fields
Wait till he gets home
Then, rain at your will
But don’t bring ice, and much less snow,
For spring has been cold, and winter even more.
That, the man especially knows
Alone he’ll sit on his chair on his porch,
With a rubber ball that he used to throw.
In the summer and in fall his dog would chase it,
But that was long ago.
Do you remember?
You got both soaked last November,
before the man was left alone.

But do not weep, just rain
My friend,  Rain.


Rain in big and small droplets on the earth and floor
Wet my bare feet and jump in between my toes
I want to stamp on the puddle of water that you’ve formed
Soak me and join me
Rain and accompany me
Let us form a camaraderie
We can tell each other stories
You can tell me of your journey as you fall down from above
And I’ll tell you of the plants and flowers that in your absence will bud
Don’t be scared, for I’ll be your friend
When people go inside when you come,
I’ll come outside
You will make the puddles and I the mud
Even with my fading eyes I’ll look up
At the sky to welcome you as you rain.

When you leave don’t leave too fast,
Else the rainbow won’t show up
And please, don’t say goodbye
Farewells are too sad
Instead, say an “until next time.”

But for now rain, rain, rain,
My friend,
Rain.

I shall plant cherry trees
On green fields outside town
And wait years for blossoms
You and I, love, married
Cherry blossoms scattering our countryside

A guy says to a girl:
So you're the reason global warming is occurring...

The girl looks confused: What, why?

Guys says: Because you're so **** hot, that's why.

When in the night you hear the dogs whine or howl
Know that is it for my heart that they whine with melancholy  
Tell me you can sense it too, the soul leaving my dying heart.
Tell me you can hear it too, a beat less every second.
My dear lady, what is a heart without a soul if neither has your love?
I love you in a profound way, deep within every one of my veins
And arteries that hug my heart.
But the distance that sets our souls apart is what kills my heart.
Every morning and every night my soul yearns to mingle with the purity of yours.
I have tried to stop it, but it seeks your heart and soul more than my own.
One of these days, perhaps in the night, when it can’t take it anymore,
It will leave my heart to join yours,
But at the same time my heart will stop beating.
That day will be the happiest day and the saddest day—
My soul will join yours, but no longer will I breath in the aroma of your wavy hair
No longer will I be able to kiss your sweet and tender lips
My dark eyes won’t ever meet the sight of your colorful eyes.
But I ask of you one last favor.
When my soul carrying my love comes knocking at your door, do not reject it.
Take its humble love that has grown all this time as my own.
Let not the dogs cry
Don’t let them howl at the moon
But what else will they do but to be saddened by my agony of not being close to you
Give my soul and the dogs a little comfort.
Accept it, don’t reject it, else the only ones to bark for that grand love will be the dogs,
For I will be long gone, waiting for eternity till I can be together with you.
And if this humble love is not sufficient to join your person, and you shall reject it
Do not allow the poor creatures to see my soul rise to the Moon’s *****,
She who witnessed the day I met you, the nights we spent apart, and my grand love for you,
She will comfort the poor soul, but who will comfort those poor howling, whining dogs?
Please, give them peace, so that the melancholy sounds may cease.

On the first night that I met you, I went to sleep trying to remember your face, but I could not make it out.
The only thing, the only feature that came so vividly to my mind were your lips, beautiful as they are, like I know you are.
*Lips that kiss my soul
They are the lips I wish to kiss
Your lips,
So warm that melt my own
Lips that whisper to my ear
The lips I want to hear
Your lips,
Lips with which I fall in love
The lips worth dying for

One morning, when the sun comes up
I will see it shine above the valleys of that city
Upon that city that once rose atop the lake
One fine morning, the people will cease murdering each other
No ammunition sounds will reach the ear, and no more gunpowder in the air
No more tears of blood from open wounds
And no more human puzzles to decipher
One morning, when the sun comes up
It will shine its rays upon the missing
Rays that they will follow home,
Where they’ll be greeted with marigolds
Below the mountains, I will see flower gardens  
Full of calla lilies and flower pickers carrying them
That morning, when the sun won’t forget to shine from open skies,
My compatriots will play ‘Pretty Little Sky”
All will sing, and none will cry, because the sun will shine
And bathe away sorrows of the past.

She wears blue rubber gloves
Middle aged, with light, brown hair
She pulls it back in a pony tail
Her eyes match her hair,
Brown, but dull and dried, uninspired.

With her hands, she holds a cart,
with a container of trash, black trash bags,
two wooden poles, and her disinfectant just below from where she holds.
She pushes it, and it rolls over the floor.

Her parents promised her a good life,
that she would attend a college.
She has made it.
She has late nights like every student
Like them, she visits the second floor of Wells, tired,
but in her brown custodian attire.

The lady makes her rounds every four hours
every day of the week.
Her legs and feet slow down every time she returns
And her worn out shoes decay even more

When she looks in the mirror in the restroom she can see the wrinkles  
           around those eyes of hers.
In a different time, she would have covered these areas with makeup,
but now she wonder, 'is there any use in that?'

We ignore her, we've seen her too often
She is like an invisible ghost,
you don't see her,  can't hear her.

She's is leaving now, after cleaning the restrooms, pushing her cart.
It's now 8:16pm, she'll be back at midnight.
I will see her then, before I leave
It's a date that we have, but only I know
but I'll ignore her, I won't smile nor talk to her.

Do you know that roses turn red at the sight of a beautiful woman like you?

They are pink because they have fallen in love with your sweet, rosy lips.

And they turn white because that is how pure our love has become.

I don't know what it feels like in space.
What the astronauts feel as they float and look out the window
and see a colossal Earth
As they look out the window and see a glimmering light,
an auratic moon and a vast emptiness
It must be pretty
But I doubt it is anything like swinging in the dawn
As I swing, my black and ***** hair is blown back and forth as it kisses the air
With every swing I take I leave behind my melancholies

I've been hearing the birds sing for the past two hours,
and the sun is not yet visible.
If I swing a few more minutes
and the cloudy skies clear,
it'll wake from its daily nap,
from behind my back.
Maybe I can see its reflection through the water in the pool
that sits a few meters from me.

Oh, how the wind is cool.
It blows away those dandelion flower seeds that hit my skin.
When I swing and glide through the wind,
it becomes the closest thing to flying or anything akin.
It does not oppose
Instead, it pushes me higher, closer to the sky
as if I could fly, giving me wings, like the birds that sing.



If I could go to space or wake up early one day,
I would choose to stay.
Here I can swing and kick the air,
hear the birds’ serenade,
and smell the freshness of the moist earth in the air.
This beauty cannot be compared.
I rather swing and observe the forming of this beauty here
Like I do the early Thursday morning .

For the first time I talk to you
I hated you, I despised you, I disliked you
I forgot about you, father.

The two of you became distanced
The kid you once hit has now grown
I wonder, is he now an adult?

The first time, I slept at grandma's house
I was consoled by her
Being poor, she only gave a plastic straw and a tight hug.

The last time, mom only told me, "You have to write more legibly,"
and I cried
But then I tried, I tried, tried, tried, tried, I tried, I tried
But then you disappointed again
Impossible to refrain, you'd come back late
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. Too many to remember
Perfumed in alcohol,
You'd hit the wall,
You'd hit my door,
You'd hit my sister's door.
You mistreated my siblings.
I couldn't take it anymore
I deprived myself of my feelings.

The kid told me to forget you,
and you became a stranger.

Seven years have passed,
and two weeks have gone by
since a faint memory came back.

Is it time or is it wind,
that erodes the rock?

I called you, and timidly said four words to you.
Not many, only a few
Were you surprised,
that I had even tried?
We may never be a happy family of flying doves,
That I know.
What can happen in the future, that I have no clue
But shall we digress?
Happy birthday to you.
May we live at least another 50 years.

Thank you mother, I have a father.

Enamored
*
I want to live life happy; I want to live a happy life
I don’t want to die, or commit suicide
Though the thoughts may come, I will not succumb
Because I love life, and I love my life
A coward I am not
Listen how hard my heart pumps,
My blood
Filling up my throat, full of love
I am enamored, of all beautiful things known to all
Of earth and water, wind and fire
Of two blue skies,
One that lets us in,
The other that lets us fly
Day or night, bright or not,
My heart pumps furiously to the melody of life,
One so happy that I have
(I love this life, and would not change it,
Only for my wife)

It is seven or eight and I sit here on this porch that wasn’t before.
In the distant horizon the sun is putting on its mantle, its bed sheet.
And here, they run in front of me,
A boy of seven and his friends and others, all in elementary.
They go from north to south and sometimes west.
The trailer that I’ve lived in sits where the downhill road becomes leveled.
Yesterday I was nine through thirteen when I saw a lady near the place where I sit today.
Her eyes were golden, like gold fish, like the golden sunset reflected on the water at the end of the horizon.
The kids on their bikes evade the *** holes on the road as they come downhill speeding up.
Some go straight to where I can’t see them
Others turn right, to the road that ends in front of a little forest, just below the sun.
I’ve seen this before, it was yesterday.
I didn’t remember, but today I remembered.
Is the kid of seven who looks at me, seeing, feeling what I felt yesterday?
Is this what she felt by seeing what I see today?
The kids sweaty and blushing from the heat, smiling, surrounded by old trailers on the streets of Fairlane, will they ever leave this place, or will they be like us?
The boy smiles and waves hi to me.
In his eyes I can see what I saw yesterday.
The person in his eyes nods gently with watered eyes.
I hope he leaves.

Quiet Nights
*
This I am, sitting by the
Moving train.
Here I am, next to aged
Metal tracks, listening to
The cuckoo of the flying
Train, the train that leaves
Behind grey smoke trails like
The rabbit leaves behind its trails
In the woodened forests.

It is suddenly a grey dark morning day
In midwinter, but now it is
A warm dark night leveeing the
Tracks with vibrating gravel
As the train flies in front of the
Eyes and I listen quietly to the choo-choo’s,
Tucked inside my bed sheets
Half a kilometer away.

Big round opened eyes gleam
Brightly in that absolute darkness,
Until the train lights **** it in.
And suddenly they are dark, and
The room is lighted through the
Large window and its transparent
Plastic curtain.
There I am, half a kilometer
Away, sitting by the immobile gravel
Looking at the rear metals
Of a moving train that leaves
Behind large puffs of intoxicating
Smoke that disintegrates into
Large clouds of fog fallen onto the
Mobile homes.

Sometimes I feel like the greatest, but most of the time I feel like the worst, the worst poet of all the living poets.

I am the destroyer of mountains
Polluter of rivers, oceans, and earth
Everything on this Earth is mine and only mine
It belongs to me
My name is Man

Witness the sixth extinction that I bring upon
Breathe my toxic smoke
One more time before I disappear

My brother trembles at the sight of me
I bring life upon him
And I take life from him at will
I am Man, the destroyer of mountains

It is I the last one I shall see
It is I who will destroy thee

.
   There are scenes of which we should never takes pictures to remember because they are most memorable and best contemplated when in person.
   Likewise, in love sometimes words are no enough and are better left unsaid. Only in silence can we express our feelings of love. Our eyes can speak a million words more each second than our vocal cords. Spoken words are merely in the way that separates two souls. Why speak when our eyes can make us one, and our lips can kiss? No words are necessary here.
   Words may fade away, but the memories of what we did those silent days will remain for us to contemplate on quiet days.

May man and woman coexist equally on our Earth and in our Universe,
For one is half the other, and the two make one full.
May they ride horses, wild and free,
Flying through the winds
Higher and higher as it seems
To reach the cosmos
Far, far out to the boundaries once set,
Each to create new paths, new leads for the next to come
Their names shall be man and woman,
and together they will be one,
The persons who will come,
I.

Up above, the skies reside
Slowly, the clouds go by
Here, we sit to meditate
And contemplate life, all calm
As winds carry us away

Unrequited love
Impossible, but she's whom I feel is my soul.
Perhaps, I hope, she too will think so.

What is it about her that I like, you ask?
Why so much love?
I think it's those high cheekbones
It's weird, but it's true, I really do.
If I imagine her, I usually only see two things
One, her big round eyes,
and two, her lovely cheekbones
They're like two precious diamond stones
that adorn the oceans in her eyes,
only mirrored by the open skies.

Nostalgia of a love
*
It is your eyes that hypnotize me, and your gentle voice that dominates me
In my cold solitude, your embrace, soft and warm, softens the cold air
It is with your sweet kisses with which the essence of my soul falls in love
With them I dream from far away
They are the memories I carry everywhere

Outside the weather is cold
Wind blows like a freezer
Through the walls it enters
It permeates my lonely soul
Devoid of whom I love

You do not understand
You simply cannot comprehend,
this feeling in my brain.

My science tells me it's up there
Where?  
Again?
Up there, the brain.
Not in the heart, not in the lungs, nowhere else
Only there.

But to be fair, I feel something in my chest
Could it be the chemicals?
Oxytocin? Serotonin?
Or could it be dopamine?
Oh! Let's just call it love.

I am sad today
It is not from love
But my family
What could they be doing?
Saying?
Without me being there?
There they are, far away,
And I here, so lonely
I want to cry, I cry in silence

My dear mother, how could she be doing?
My siblings, what could they be fighting over?
I don't want them to think of me
Or that they miss me
I only want their company and warmness

The bread is soaked in coffee
And we spend time together
Till we part away to dream

A *** of water is boiled
With some rice
We add cinnamon, milk and sugar
When everything is ready we wet the bread in it
And we all spend time together on the sweet morning
And from there we part ways until convening later in the day or night
To be a family again.

That is why I am sad,
I sleep and wake
The night and day
And it's only me
There is no rice,
No tea or coffee
Or the warmness of my family

I become saddened

Your cheeks are
Roses, my love
Soft and color
Yours and mine
Brush with ardor


(original in Spanish)
Mejillas Coloridas

Tus mejillas son
Rosas, mi amor
Suaves y color
Tuyas y mías
Rozan con ardor

One day I came across the most beautiful scenery one has ever found.
It was paradise.
I contemplated it for hours, before setting off to buy a camera so that I could capture this beauty.
Imagine what the world would say about it, how much they would love it!
Oh, just beautiful!
In the store, searching for the camera I met a lady, we went out to eat, and lived together for the rest of our lives.

In autumn I shall wait
Sitting on the wooden bench,
Counting falling leaves surrounding me,
For you my lovely dear
To wander off forever sweet

Our culture is lost
The future no longer belongs to us
Today I have realized this

Today I come to create my own path
And one day I shall die
Everything left behind

Someone will arrive and forge their own destiny
Raise monuments and a culture
And there they shall remain

A new people will arrive
Free to construct their own legacy
Unbound by anything of the past

A being must be unchained.

One should always look forward to dying,
So long as one always looks forward to living.

Let us make a trip
Let us visit the ocean coast,
Where the hot sand will touch our bare feet
Where our toes will get covered by sand and dust
Walking on the shore from noon till dusk.

The waves will come,
and we will run
The waves will go,
and we'll approach
There, the sun will glow,
there, between the orange sky and the blue liquid
creating an illuminating path to its heart.
Quick, let's run! The waves aren't that far!

Holding hands, as the waves hit us
and water sprinkles over our bodies, we recede
to our ****-made sand seats.

Though the sun may blind my eyes,
with you by my side I'd like to watch and say farewells and goodbyes.

I want to write a poem, but I forgot how,
or rather, I've never known how and I'm just finding out now

I don't want to write a book, because I don't need many words to express my feelings,
but mainly because it's too hard to write one.
I only eat at real restaurants, not fast-food ones like McDonald's or other chumps
because I don't want to get fat,
but mainly because I'd be too lazy to work out.
I only watch movies on the Internet because I don't feel like paying for the cable,
But lets be honest, I just can't afford a TV.

I'd like to visit Canada to see the pretty girls there this spring,
dancing with the air, as the wind blows away their hair
Truthfully, though, I want to go France and have the ladies speak French to me,
but I can't afford the ticket, so I'll settle for the next best thing, this spring

I enrolled in college because I wanted to follow my dreams,
Or so I told my parents.
I just wanted to get out of the house and so I used this scheme
You  could say I really did fulfilled my dream.

The kid saw a tired, dead face as the speckles of light disappeared behind his ears.
The robes, the bones, present in the water, present in the sunset,
Present in the quietness, the silent place,
in the tranquility of the night and in the peace of time.
The robe over the bones, present in her tired face
The insignificant, the never present, now always the ever-present and ubiquitous
What would become happiness, what would become joy
became sadness, became remorse.

I want to go one way, but he current takes me another
In the end, I think it's all circles, spirals,
But too far have I gone
That I can't see that it was a circle from the start.

Today the rain falls lightly,
So quietly on my rooftop
As I lie down thinking,
Starring blankly at the ceiling,
Will we ever be together?

Some days
Someday, I hope to hold your hand
Someday, I want to run my fingers through your hair
Someday, I wish to hold your stare
Someday, I long to kiss you as I have planned
Someday, I yearn to hold you in my arms
Someday, I expect to win you with my charms
Someday, we can touch our hearts
Someday, we could do this in the parks
Someday, I would also like to marry you
But for now, I should say adieu.

...
As a person

I  go around, walking under the clouds or below
the clear blue sky. If money is gold, then
the sky is my soul, never to be bought, never to to be sold.

The wind in fall, the wind in spring
The breeze in summer, the breeze in winter
I see the rain maneuver around my red
umbrella. The rim breaks, the springs bend.
Rivers and lakes dry. Rivers and lakes flood. But they also
shrink, but they expand as they freeze. But life is
beautiful, it is continuous in all four seasons.
Death is non existent. It is never here nor there.
Never present, it only shows itself when it leaves....