Silent Day

Today I wish to be silent,

and hear only wind rustle over my ears.

My blood cannot handle voices

or it will boil through my skin

which trembles from the vastness

of the Void

which my dreams have become,

stained by reality’s harsh sunlight,

nothing like soft summer,

only jaded delights

and comfortable sadness.

I repose in this silent day,

bathe in the distance and melancholy

I’ve created.

Mountain breeze and car alarms

replace my hometown melodies,

my childhood dream security

becomes anxious tranquility.

I wish to exist outside of my heart,

which owns the broken nostalgia

of my soul

like waterfalls of sun

pouring through windowpanes

that I can never move beyond

or my spirit will burn to ash.

Say you understand me,

and lock me in your arms,

don’t let me go so easily

or I’ll believe you’ve barely wanted me.

I step on white hot pavement,

the road to Central Station,

paths in all directions,

I want to float into the sky.

you don’t know how to handle me,

or how to contain love,

the shortage deep inside of you

disintegrates my empathy.

I sense you walking far from me,

the Void between us widening,

tracing back our steps in time,

back to the lonely beginning.

Drifting Thoughts

One slim glass of coca-cola iceless on wood mueble by my pillow where I rest my skin in motionless tranquility so as not to sweat in summer afternoon

adobe tile room,

150 pesos rusty golden coins, a receipt for tomatos, and old Motorola accompany the dewy glass as I sit

and occasionally miss my city as she drifts through my head like breath or waves,

and sometimes her memory even pounds against my bones like veins of blood trembling with heartbeat,

she will always be fuera de la realidad, for her hospitality is rough like pavement and her heart a jungle of chaos;

but her Dream is like roses, an oasis to my soul’s reality.

her promise has fed me, no matter if I fulfill, for the wind has always pushed me where I need to be…

Sole Desire

poetry is all;

all my soul and melancholy

seduced by sweet nostalgia and lullaby memory of fuzzy golden home like dream with soft blinking stars like miniature suns filling my summer skin with night warmth, oh

all I desire

is to write.

walk, and inhale, hope for lust and angels, seek countless words,

find myself back in the same corners of world,

always dusty with recollection the way antique wood penetrates senses like past life or milonga,

the deep rust of remembrance eternally kindling my soul’s song,

no–I have no other plan

but to write.

-will never change-

is all I know of existence;

the words which procede witness

and emerge in the depths of our ribs.

Heart Don’t Die

neon glowing white

hot flame blank screen

pages of you to write

but I only wish to

sleep for milleniums

until I find love in the concaves

of my dreams.

aunts, neighbors, collegues

open their mouths and have an opinion

no one asks what makes me happy

only wonder in silence if I’ll ever make money.

they care profoundly

about the wrong parts of my future.

are too burrowed in their own sorrows

to manage any optimistic words.

this is the moment

when everyone demonstrates

how little

they’ve ever known me.

sitting on piles of Hard Work and Dedication

[busywork, wasted time, and bullshit

nothing is meaningful under the sun

I could only be dedicated to something I love]

vaguely, distantly proud

because I was on the path they took

that led them to such

bliss-inspiring stability.

I don’t want my heart to die

as I grow older

I want to forget routine

and bullshit.

I only want to bleed

and see the cities

breathe their smoke

cough while laughing

kiss strawberrily and sleep in a haze

film foreign obscure dark themes

and forget the American dream.

To Know

toss and turn,

go the nights

in the waiting room

for life.

desperate

for new faces,

to climb mountains,

to leave.

I live on the edge

of “almost”

and danger,

all sense lost.

I live in a spiral

of delusions and dreams,

illusions and love,

hope and dread.

my soul will not

stop churning

until we set sail

and know.

Just to know–

how the streets will make me feel,

where his love will make me want to be,

why I gave up every bit of

reality

to know the worth of my small dream

Road Irreversible

I long for the 15-year-old me,

as if she were a perfect tragic entity

I yearn to be.

she was soft like afternoons by the train tracks,

not yet hard from weatherbeaten city streets.

she was warm like summer park benches,

not yet frozen by loveless winter apartment nights.

she was in love, alite with melodies of sun

not yet jaded by routine and adults’ run around games.

she was free, to learn and to drink all of love’s promise,

to watch the sky and see nothing but hope in the stars,

to kiss lips and never picture him falling through her hands,

to dance and trust completely

his lead and the tranquil suburban night surrounding.

but she didn’t know this

until now,

as I wonder if I am still so free.

 

I speak to her at midnight

by my childhood window,

where I can almost meld her soul with mine,

exchanging gray dusk with violet dawn

sometimes interchangeable

other times too separated by black hours of night.

Each time I swim back to her heart

mine beats more slowly

and I cry because I want to love the world again,

yet the road is irreversible,

If I turn around now I’ll lose the horizon,

which she too was facing,

never turning her back.

So I’ll follow her lead

and swear to never look back…

‘Don’t fear the reaper’ I need to be free!

I will smile, and be free.

Free of death–

Which will come when it is ready.

I have broken through

lifelong years of worry

small, indoors it kept me,

away from the sun,

from God,

from electric love,

from tasting free air,

from truly breathing in

music and the night.

I will fly on the wind and jump from cliffs,

like rain, 

unhaunted by humanly affliction.

Come down with me–

down to our South,

Heaven amidst wild land,

Bolivia is calling,

Santiago is yelling,

Lima is yearning,

Buenos Aires is throbbing

with my heartbeat

coursing through the land,

I will be there soon…

For you

I will cross the Paraná

what’s death in the face of love?

“a soulmate is someone who challenges you”

I prepare for malaria and draw my blood.

never thought I could be brave

you said I was an alma aventurera y valiente

can you love me through my fear?

I will be with you through the rogue night.

and I have been through endless summer

I would stand at the side of the road with you,

and live on hope alone…

I Remember

I remember

the sweat of my skin,

the buzzing in my ears,

the swelling of my feet

the strained smile I give strange men

in return for them asking me to dance

but I am pulled between their knees

as tired feet watch from the sidelines;

no eyes meet mine

and he knows some great moves.

almost professional.

I remember

knowing rhythm 

before knowing sexy

music flowed through me like blood

I became a woman;

I am shy now when I dance

and I smile like a child…

Hollywood

we spin through the nights and streets

after hours Venice Beach. 

sabe que no podemos seguir asi,

fuera de control.

he has strong arms 

like my father, 

so I hold him close and ask him

to walk with me through the rogue 

beach night, 

drive me home beyond the

summer bar fights.

we live in a jungle

of dim red lights and

whisky on the job.

we sell our smiles to get tips,

a Hollywood family;

shining with gold and tears.

he’s handing me a stack of bills

because he can, he calls himself

God and El Rey of Venice Beach.

he’s fire now;

one day he’ll be ashes.

their eyes are red but 

I’m the one crying

and I know I am far away from home

as wordless tangos deafen

my doubts and the screams of my soul.

Los Angeles cries and her eyes shine

like skyscrapers and starlit dreams.

snow from far away falls upon her empty Hills, 

but we stay warm and dry, and

at daybreak we’re left with dust

and masks to wear til sunset.

Soy la princesa, 

alone in the bar,  

maybe I’m rich now because I live off nothing–

and kisses and loopholes and vino rojo,

but I’ll be leaving soon.

maybe I’m drunk because I have nothing,

and now I’m full of everything.