their easy laughter
the glimmering of their mind
like sun through stained glass
I wonder if I see them
or if through them, I see you

birds startled awing
dashed across the glowing skies
like scattered inkblots
these things that I cannot word
I crumble another page

today we both found
the cat beneath the dumpster
how familiar
to see their extended hand
met with impervious eyes

a rustle of sheets
a foot comes loose to dangle
in the humid air
despite the sweat and silence
a dream proceeds, unconcerned

a whisper of snow
upon the last breath of spring
unheard by summer
I watched the frost turn to dew
and thought of your thin smile

in this other world
beyond wall and waking dream
the sun flickers out;
amidst the stars' perfect light
the moon rises in darkness

thoughts scatter like leaves
like words, strewn far and drying
now that you are gone
autumn settles in at last
and the world's feet are heavy

yet the stars still shine.
by their light I bring those leaves
together again—
as you wrote because of me
so I write because of you.

I'm folding origami birds
from old envelopes

                                                      ­                           with stamps from the US
                                                              ­                   as if hoping they'll fly back

there & greet my friend
& blowing bubbles in my tea

                                                            ­                                     Yesterday I heard
                                                           ­                                 Yuri Gagarin's voice


for the first time
& thought it strange

                                                        ­                                       that such a simple
                                                          ­                            sounding man should've

been allowed into Space
rather than picking a Poet

                                                           ­                                   who could've made
                                                            ­                               more of it than him
the last three letters I sent
to my friend

                                                               ­                                      didn't get there
                                                           ­                             so I don't trust the Post
anymore & rely
on e-mails & phone

                                                          ­                       sometimes we don't write
                                                           ­        or speak  for months or even a year

& then when we get
back in touch

                                                          ­                                                 it's just like
                                                            ­                                  hearing from Space

The time has come forth to ponder and think,
about the spiritual planes that are reluctantly unforeseen.
Of the dimensions that are surreal to those who use emotion and feel.
The mind creates an undeniable creation that disguises itself to be real.

Enduring and speculating on the thought of consciousness and love;
one will realize the reality of our minds perception defying the dogmatic breeding brawl.
Although our minds potential is finite and cleverly obscured;
we will begin to witness the marching of shooting stars so pure.

Imminently clear, we begin to reach a higher plane of degree.
Meditating to the point where we become one with the universe without plea.
Encompassing the ethereal and uncovering half-truths,
perceiving the ultimate correspondence intelligently and shrewd.

Where will one travel amidst the taunt of death and fear?
To a place that is all well too known, a herd of aimless tears.
Lacrimation will enlighten those when they have fallen in the solstices peak.
To experience a world that was previously known as a philosophical creation by the streams.

Metaphysical questions will mark its toll to the soul who learns to decipher no more.
Otherwise, contentions will cause despair and half truths will then have to bear.
Inducing a different consciousness to a degree not explored before;
one will embark on a alchemic journey of the mental transmutation to the inner soul.

Mental creation spurs the ****** of the universal degree of spirit and mind.
An illusion so concurrent to the law depicted within our eyes alter-mind.
Deception will avail to those who blindly believe they have prevailed;
when attempting to solve the riddle behind the creator of the tale.

By: Michael M. De La Fuente