Here again, behind closed eyes
Balanced on this fragile threshold
One
Enjoying the moment before it’s over
As morning melts the locks
Two
Tenderly tracing unseen features
Kneading you from dreams and memories
Three
Feeling the meter of your sleeping heartbeat
Synchronizing as we breathe
Four
Folding you closer, moored in your warmth
Pressing your blessed scent against my chest
Five
Picturing the glow outside
Alighting on your resting eyes
Six
Savoring our seven precious seconds
Helplessly defending the present tense
Seven




Today I woke up holding your pillow.

We resided in an empire of light
On the second block from the right
Waiting for morning

I thought of how damaged people are
She was gentle as a falling star
"I love you," we refrained

She counts down from a hundred to one,
Clutching her love like a crutch.
He fumbles,
Hunting for his hunger.
They blot out doubt
And muster up their trust

"I'm fine" she cries,
As a child dies.
He learns,
He spits in her gritted eyes.
She reminds him that they're dying,
Burning while they turn
Spinning in his sheets
Struggling to breathe
Smuggling their dreams
In apologetic sweat
And ***** epithets

The infant actors beg for ******
Whispering the wishes that are listed in the script
Quoting moans that catch on choking throats
Pleading for release
Reading of futility
And mutual defeat
Delivering a finish
In pillowed soliloquys

Adolescent in the stillness
Adolescent in the heat
Adolescent in the promise
Adolescent in belief

She stutters love in ****** butterflies
On his rasping chest
As he gasps for breath.
She grasps at death,
While he grabs a cigarette.

Cast away in brackish blanket seas
They wrap themselves in fallacies
And laugh at their realities:
The cult of love belongs to Morpheus
And adulthood is an orphanage

sleepless embraces
silent
defacing
our wilted ends and tenderness.
privately crying,
quiet, applying
blush
on putrescence.
murmurring,
murmurring
'you are mine.'
pining,
dying,
hushing lust.
rabidly dabbling in fragile fantasies,  
huffing tar stuff borrowed from tomorrow!
shush.
please.
these feeble obscenities eat me to sleep:
you wear me down like a river
but i don't get smoother
i just get thinner

We are the dusk men,
Showering ourselves in fairy-dust cobwebs,
Pinning our borrowed ambitions like moth-wings.
We’re kept fresh in cement-trucks,
Tumbling in our *****-grinder wombs,
And respected like top-shelf hamburgers.
Immaculately preserved
In starched formaldehyde.

I dream with my hands
While my tongue fails
And my pillow only gives me sleepdust.
I make dreams without labels or names,
Whose fences have already pervaded reality
And whose power dies again each generation.
I construct bridges between words
With stones that will weather
Even the fickle storms of men.
When mouths change the shape of “pyramid”
My vast triangles will still blot out the sun.
And when new peoples forget my name
The ancient eyes of my statue will still open
So that maybe in a distant moment a scholar will say
“He was once called Ozymandias, King of Kings”
All because I will have dreamt with my hands


Yo sueño con mis manos
Cuando mi lengua falla
Y la almohada me da sólo legañas.
Hago sueños sin etiquetas o nombres,
Cuyas vallas ya han impregnado realidad
Y cuya potencia muere otra vez con cada generación.
Construyo puentes entre palabras
Con piedras que aguantarán
Aun las tormentas volubles del hombre.
Cuando bocas cambian la forma de “pirámide”
Mis vastos triángulos borrarán el sol.
Y cuando pueblos nuevos olvidan mi nombre
Los ojos antiguos de mi estatua se abrirán
Para que quizás en un momento distante un erudito diría
“Una vez, se llamaba Ozymandias, rey de reyes”
Todo porque habré soñado con mis manos.

I don't remember why I asked you here
But I am humble for the words in the clear
Clumsy puzzles perched on pardoned lips
Would leave us actors for forgotten scripts

Now crawling rocks carry your wary feet
Enwintered bardsmen for a blooming beat
The road is tumbling by you, darling mine
An untamed crumb-trail for a starving mind

We'll bury us in meaning and we'll forget to breathe
Unearth the flowers for our treasured weeds
We'll look for answers that all others defy
Anxious hangmen for a quick goodbye

But when your footstep finally breaks the night
It finds me wondrous for the failing fire light
Unfurl the feathers 'neath this flat disguise
Or leave me drowning for your cautious honeyed eyes

I don't remember when I saw you there
But I am humble for the words in the clear air