Amor

conocido
desconocido
caminaré contigo
liberando mis miedos
dejando mis huellas
en las manos
de mareas
escucharé
al mar.

Infinity sleeps
in your eyes
while time
rests its wings
and love plants
quiet gardens
in the rain.

Her roots took hold
in winter’s embrace
passing through
growing slow
unnoticed
extensions
of her being
weaving
the colors of seasons
into reasons
to go.
It’s cold again
the days pass
the hours go by
words
have no memory
and the sun is warm
in the morning.

La ausencia
no existe
en los recuerdos
imaginarios
es un ascenso
del silencio
diciéndome
soltar
con sus susurras
por sus hilos
cosidos
en mis dedos
y por la boca
espantosa
de una rosa
hermosa.
 
La quiero
entrar.

My dear,

while you
drowned
in the sound
of the rain
tonight
I soaked in
bright colors
walked through
mud puddles
wet gleaming
traffic lights,
smiling.


Inhaling
your wild words
is a surge of excitement
and a lie
lies
on every note.

Hilos de luz
tan finas
más frágiles
caen aquí
es mojado
el oscuro
no es frío
donde respiro
los recuerdos
de ti.
What happens
if the silence turns around
and the quiet in the walls
falls through the cracks
and I laugh again?

There is

a journey

in me

still and constant

and longing to be

in the light

of old souls

in the company

of those

who have

learned

to walk slow.


The ashes of permanence

are buried in my being

in all the memories
I forget.

I laughed

under the sun

and got burnt again

so I stood there

nowhere

wanting to walk away

wanting to pretend

you never appeared

before you disappeared

instead

I’m holding loneliness

and boredom close

until I remember

they are the enemies

I love.


After all I see this storm will steer me down that road where wild screams are slit and arranged just so.

Immutable desire waiting in circles unseen she goes round she goes round in circles.

One Sunday I remember sharing a way of seeing the world written on a napkin imagining your map of stories drawn on fine paper wings. It made me smile to think of traveling against wind with sad bears, old cats, imaginary friends and things.

I feel half alone half here there somewhere hidden, written in bitter poetry untold.

Beauty weighted against the ache of nothingness is fading gracefully. My body, an elegant scar of flesh fused to memory, gives way to its weary ghosts. Signs of light and lightness seep through the lines to the living, dying. I see my corpse amidst the shadows, quietly ablaze.

In the aching cold my tears roll slow.

All around our stone dreams crumbled.

Your tired feathers broken, fell

to the greys of old, the dust, the cold.

Your heaviness clung stubborn

to the weakness in my bones.

Your silence swallowed sorrow

to the depths you walk alone.

Yet for all that came to pass, my love,
it was with you that she was born.