"catalonia" poems
a deck
now with
Bedouin high
there dream
her red
quotient in
Catalonia with
Montserrat qua
mountain deem
hindmost their
trials to
independence back
to innermost
Barcelona as
watershed lariat
begun this
year Ole
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 3:05 PM UTC
I said I didn't want to talk
so I ignored you
Too long
I said sorry
You said it's fine
Silence
Ups and downs is what we had
The fifteen days with you were nice
We are over it now
You give me balance
Yet your surroundings are in chaos
I am my own chaos
I think of you at times
Hoping that you are safe
In the turmoil of Catalonia
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 1:52 PM UTC
Do I have to love anybody?
Like I mean in particular
Do I have to pick and choose one soul to love for X amount of years until they die or I die or one of us becomes "dead" to each other?
Do I have to pick and choose
Or can I love everyone?
Can I love the idea of people
The idea of being alive
The idea that we are working everyday for a brighter future
The idea that we won't stop fighting as long as there's somebody left to save
Almost every girl I have ever had a thing for
Is in a happy relationship now
And I'm thankful for that
Can I love the sun?
Even though I say I hate how it gets in my eyes and makes everything too **** hot or too **** bright
Can I love the moon?
Even if I barely take any moments to appreciate it
At night all my blinds are shut tight because of silly paranoia I know is silly
But can I still love the moon?
I have love for a million boxcars thundering down train tracks and a million semi's whose occupants will make it home just in time for the weekend
I love Gordon Downie and his infinite courage and strength
I love the spirit of Catalonia that comforts me when I start to get sick of the world around me
Today I can't think of anyone I hold too much animosity towards to say I love them in some regard
And if this is wrong
And I can only love one thing out of all the things in creation
Then I'll love "us"
All 7 billion
Of us
I'm sure St. Valentine was coerced
He doesn't seem like a box of chocolates and flowers kind of guy
I'm sure somebody bought him out
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 12:16 AM UTC
A tract can be coined a cake
and love of her biosphere but me
in Doeville shall rupture her mandrake
those herds of desert shores
with a torch will believe in me azores
when shy of antrorse
gypsies rebel there
as Jugendstil has accomplished Sezession
well eat lark in Catalonia
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 11:35 AM UTC
King Kong
in stripe
as groom
of grope
still star
in underworld
these legions
of force
who whatsoever
will take
her on
as siny
so Catalonia
won't dare
throng her
even today
without me
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 10:31 AM UTC
That wave
in Catalonia
That almost touches your toes
You don't need anything else
Or anything at all
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 12:25 AM UTC
catherine is in blue
and bandages her finger with grass and a feather
her mother is sure she took on grace whilst in the womb
who is first and and yet an afterthought?
catherine is bleached
between girls breathing rococo and the washing machine that doesn’t distinguish the separation of her name or fabric
ever maid
where does she go and you begin?
that brother has the ocean compressed in his eyes
and it’s the ships that go by in the night
that make her as penitent as the Magdalene
catherine is moving
and if she takes on the sun it’s best to leave some in Catalonia
if she carves herself in flesh
she should do so herself
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 3:04 AM UTC
I’d like to believe I’ve known you over many lifetimes.
I’d like to believe I met you in New York City, as you browsed through records on a cold 1962 evening.
Perhaps in Paris at the end of the war.
Tinker parades marching down the “Avenue Montaigne”.
Perhaps you were standing on the corner demanding they “don’t forget Catalonia!”.
Maybe I smiled and accepted a pamphlet and remembered those nostalgic hands.
Maybe then they reminded me of summers in Grimaud and not Christmas in Mexico.
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 3:31 PM UTC
In lines of yellow and red flags
billow in the air of politics
Lives traced in graves cut into the fields of survival
In dance tip toeing through a crown of thorns
Linked hands held in defiance
Enlightened are today's troubadours of law
In language
In peace
In time
In the presence of truth
Sep 26, 2021
Sep 26, 2021 at 4:08 PM UTC
See her mouth gently clad
as the grasshopper hop avidly
whilst the ants swamp in anticipation
See her weigh the upsized eggs
as her fertility sparcely disappear
casting shadows to his peripheries
See the two rocks collide and form
yeilding to the uprooted dead plants
a homage of the great masturbator
Dali! take me to the planes of Emporda
at the bay of Cadaques, our beautiful Catalonia
let's escape and hide to the Alberes hills
Dali! take me to the jewel of the hidden hills
for their rotten love is a petrefaction
a parallel to our mystic crown
Jan 23, 2020
Jan 23, 2020 at 7:17 PM UTC