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En la oscuridad de noche
Las estrellas cayeron del cielo
Las plagas de los Tziztimime
Rabiaron contra el mundo
La tierra tembló
Los vientos aullaron
Los mares se levantaron para consumir todas las cosas
Las personas gritaron con miedo
Pensaron que toda esperanza estaba perdida
Pero Huitzilpochitli los escuchó
Y bajó del paraíso para ayudarlos
Él inmovilizó la tierra
Él calmó los vientos
Él azotó los mares a la sumisión
Entonces él convocó el sol
Y empezó un día nuevo

In the darkness of night
The stars fell from the sky
The plagues of the Tziztimime
raged against the world
The earth trembled
The winds howled
The seas rose to consume all things
The people cried out in fear
They thought that all hope was lost
But Huitzilpochitli heard them
And he descended from heaven to help them
He stilled the Earth
He calmed the winds
He whipped the seas to submission
Then he summoned the Sun
And began a new day
A poem of hope inspired by Aztec mythology. The second stanza is the English translation for the Spanish above it.
Olive 6d
We used to sit in the sun
on an old mattress behind the church house.
We talked about our families,
and about our Sunday school lessons.
Sometimes we told jokes our Sunday school teachers
would not have approved of.
But when our other friends found us,
I pretended that I never laughed at our jokes,
even though I had.
This poem is a part of a project documenting memories of a character
Olive 6d
I decided I was in love with you
because you told me it was okay
that I struck out every time in baseball,
and because you didn't pick me last
when you were team captain.
But why was that all it took
for me to declare my love for a boy?
This poem is a part of a project documenting small but significant memories in a character's life.
Olive 6d
I had a favorite shirt
with pictures of cute dogs on it.
But you told me
that girls shouldn't wear shirts like that to church
because it wasn't pretty enough.
I never wore it to church again.

I never wore it again.
This poem is a part of a project documenting small but significant memories in a character's life.
Olive 6d
You took me to the very upstairs of the church,
and then even higher
to the bell tower,
where we pulled the rope and sounded the bell
after church was over. Then we ran away
and hid under the pews.
We must have been good hiders, because
we never got in trouble.
This poem is a part of a project documenting small but significant memories in a character's life.
Olive 6d
All I remember about you
is your first name
and that I laughed at you a lot.
But you were a little mean.
I didn't even think you were funny,
but I felt like I had to laugh.
Why did I feel like I had to laugh?
This poem is a part of a project documenting small but significant memories in a character's life.
Olive 6d
You were the only boy I knew,
so I figured we would probably have  to get married
and that was all I knew.
We used to hide in the bushes behind your house
And pretend we were married.
This poem is a part of a project documenting small but significant memories in a character's life.
Olive 6d
You are always younger, but
always still make me a little nervous.
Maybe it's your voice.
Maybe it's your face.
Maybe it's how you aren't afraid to talk to people,
but you never talk to me.
This poem is a part of a project documenting small but significant memories in a character's life.
Olive 6d
I'd known you for all five years of my life
when I learned we are cousins.
I envied the seven months of wisdom you had
more than me.
You had a dog I loved
and a stuffed cat that purred.
You saw the elephants in Chiang Mai
seven months before I did.
This poem is a part of a project documenting small but significant memories in a character's life.
I've been waiting for a while
Waiting on the bus, lingering Acadia road
With stark canary smiles
Tires sliding south, piercing lights through the snow

The grouching driver smiled for a buck
But it wasn't my number, just his luck
The face mistook

The madmen piled on top of one another
Spitting stories of strenuous times
Though they complained about the weather
They would do so well to shine every dime

The bus came and noticed my suit
The others followed me in pursuit
Of their boots

I am happy looking at the snow
And only feeling through the cleanest window
But everybody's in a jiving craze
I'm amazed or maybe I'm enhazed
By the speed of streets
And my halted heat

The participants of equilibrium
Took attempts at a kinetic sleep
Instead they chant, in dulled delirium
And take a peek at their synthetic keeps

Neon lights and thinking, dancing strobes
Stamping all their prints into my lobe
As the traffic probes

The wolf in withered wool
Talked about the finest winter day at the start of fall
His owner pulled a spool
Out of her spine, turned it to money, aimed a gun at her own gall

People were aroused ‘till they were pale
And the snow took on the visage of hail
It had us all impaled

A preacher in the back carried the thrall
Of every play and soon denounced them all
Then every mind’s speed-o-meter broke
The bus in that moment served to provoke
The red lights have stalled
But I am simply staring at the wall

The beautiful marmalade-
Haired lady was a victim of the locks of fate
As the buses fade
Onto pavilions of blurs into oblivion’s gate

The passengers sink past another precinct
The districts become less and less distinct
Vision is extinct

The cosmic eye’s offspring
Held a mundane life of bounding over mounds of salt
They came off of spring’s
Offering and found the true, world-collective gestalt

They fret over the facets of fossils
They seek to shine on acrimonious ant-hills
Passion is distilled

The merriest of people lie in songs
And do not feel bothered to belong
But when the bus transitions to a train
The vindictive vain are doused in pain
Queens on their knees
In well-ragged fleece

The bellowing bell-maid
Rang a tune that sang the smells of Familiar Arabia
The sums that we all paid
Meant nothing at all as golden sands enshroud grey Acadia

The replicated people do not dwell
Or belong inside my newfound well
While they seek to sell

The curl-headed mind,
Kept and groomed by the spotted hand of mercury
Grabbed the leashes of the hind
And repeated tales of great Apollo’s century

In the prints on dunes, he has found
The journey and a lack of solid ground
His bounds make no sound

The beaming castle of the once-gestalt
The gardens of the sky that never halt
The market district full of jubilee
Perpetual and peaceful entropy

Once a fool to look into the past
Now he pays attention to the mast
Once entailed his failure to the sea
Perpetual and fleeting harmony

Now, we sway
Grasp your every day
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