Off the City Grid

I am off the grid as always

taking time, wandering,

exploring and simply breathing

sometimes crumbling..

under volcanoes and baking chicken,

cold summer kitchen nights,

shoes beer park lights, cement like we’re young,

free world and alone souls in the Santiago dark,

rain lightly falling over the city, foglights green through mist

and we are leaking boats, holding each other

to stay afloat.

Illusions

dissatisfaction rooted in my gut like rotten tree; though immense love for my new city finally wins, I do not know peace, every bone of destiny restless, again rocking my skin to a sense of invisibility like rootlessness like vagabond listlessness sad swaying in wind whole life unknown always shaped by fate’s new game which warps the heart and poisons lungs with esperanza and in finale, you don’t want to live anywhere, nothing will do, nothing works, the world is too small, too grand, too many voices to catch up to, too many desires to fulfill, dissappointment that comes from natural changing waves that confuse minds only desiring stillness, don’t understand my intense incapability to be still, I live by breathing and not by planning, unintelligent, poorly shaped mind, my body remaining in the end standing like a sun dial in a bath of murderous heat–

sun soul jaded under humid sweltering unforgiving streets stone dry like an absense of hope like windowless survival running from metal fence to oasis tile steel fan noisy cramped dark cave store with toothpaste and shortbread and condoms, on the corner of Misery and Paradise once again in different form, all the way South, always finding me, between bliss and craze, the indecision to be happy or to continue on seeking,

well, Happiness is not a choice–it is an illusion,

mood is elusive,

all there is be breath, consumption, lips moving, souls stirring, vaguely wanting, reaching blindly,

for joy is never pure; fear of its pending loss dissolves its magnetic power, crumbling into safe weariness once again.

organized chaos around our ankles like eternity…

Snapshots of City Memory

I am a queen of nostalgia, dark like cold nights, awake and asleep, all at the same time, like memories you can taste again and again, life begins to live, moments begin to happen, my eyes open like wind on adobe building desert midnight, stay with me, in my blood, protecting by the membrane of my veins and my esperanza, holding you forever and ever, on our new soft terrain, I was accustomed to a usual dissatisfaction so it’s difficult to know how to handle you, your teeth glistening like snow under streetlamp night, New York but latin, cobblestone dust washed into relentless tango rain, streaming at the curbs like garbage rivers racing to escape but drying before reaching the city’s edge, whirlwind life, remembered in fragments of his coffee eyes, dorado ears, corner of devilish smile,  arch of stretched back, existence now tasted in snapshots of flavor like memory dejavu reenacted in my present bones,

love, love, pushing me over the city’s shore like toes on balcony tile cold as cement at daybreak heartless as selfish desire and foolish impulsion my soul eternally filled to the brim with carelessness because nothing matters to me but love, and sadness has filled most of my days like darkness fills shadows, which wait to be painted black, as that is their purpose,

I was created melancholy and wistful like willow tree, solitary and yearning

but roots are city glass and stone mud streets and cumbia windows, plátano crates, long strides into freezing bridge night;

don’t let me go, gray sweater and flourescent bus dream, love known in flashes like polaroid unregrettable futureless time–

On the Corner of Misery and Paradise

Of course I miss the beach,

echoed my mind.

I miss the darkness of LA’s night, soulful lost in the rushing roaring rampage of starless black sky who cradles one million faces lit by neon glow like visible loneliness. The beach held my sorrows, her constancy could wash my body in ocean tears, it was only me out there, surfing in her embrace,

in the velvet black water, black air, windswept solitary night where horizon melds with the mountains into which the sea melts,

despite the lonesome hours passed heartaching under blazing rays, nostalgia begins to form a callous over the void and fear that consumed those days and now I see her streets as beautiful, as I never would when my pulsing feet would drag across them waiting for time to accelerate

On the corner of Misery and Paradise, I chose bitterly to cry

eternally waiting at dusk bus stops, alone woman Venice night.

glass stores and garage doors, bringing pizza to soft hands and

warm windows on vacation and pushing on deep into the hours

of night so late they contain every mystery and silence that is held

between our ribs.

our fingertips touching dawn, we would sleep until dusk

so if sun blessed our skin it would feel more like a burn…

I was wrong, the city loved me all along

her time has yet to come,

but her vastness reminds me to be lonely

so I will only pass through

her hills and her valleys…

Old Poems: Summer Baby

We walked all the way down to Venice

the sun set on our glass liquor heat

our infrared smiles, lost girl mouths

we sat, she smoked, he drove and

we were forever young

every light told me to stay

the paradise air tried to establish me

the city may pulverize my dreams.

I’m a Summer baby,

under a bed I sleep and hear their dreams

and hope mine isn’t a product of loneliness

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.

Sol del Barrio / Barrio Sun

I did this assignment before but now I feel like delving deeper…

Toes over cobblestone,

tumbleweed, cracks in pavement

train station

blues.

echoes of a suitcase

rolling down a quiet road

one girl

miles away from home.

restless wind

stirs in the corners

of the barrio

as faces watch

from porches of cumbia

and sweat.

soccer and dust

creaking railway

dusk and waiting

for a bus full of silent lips.

fear sits like food

in every stomach

filling us up to the brim

with love for the seconds

we spend breathing quietly

in summer tranquility

near and far from where we’ve come,

chokingly saying nothing

and softly knowing everything

under Buenos Aires sun…

Breathing in the City

motorcycles roar like tigers

into the yellow night

fireworks smack the air

like falling stars that sing

cars honk at one another

and race on through the dark,

never sleeping life

breathes throughout this city’s lungs.

and in this city, I can rest

because the restlessness exhausts me.

In this city, I’m not hungry

when it’s too hot to eat,

I sleep and listen softly

to the heartbeat of my streets.

Envolverte

you are the sunshadow of my nostalgic past,

the star-ray of my blue night sky present,

the fire glimmer of my endless summer future,

I can’t believe I ever hurt you,

turned you away on Christmas

when even in anger you followed me

and walked across town with me–

I was a different person then.

Buenos Aires saw it all-

and She brings us together again,

in an ocean of fate She is our wave.

Let me envelope you–

never to drown you again

only take you in my arms

in the middle of our city,

though she breathes turmoil

and exhales restless afternoons,

I am calm in your lips,

on our porch with tea and sun.

 

Dejáme envolverte,

no quemarte,

ni secarte,

sino amarte.

Vos sos destino

carne y madera,

juntáte a las muralles conmigo,

vivimos camuflados 

y libres.

 

 

 

 

I am woman

they will steal money from my pocket,

the jungle will suck my blood,

the world will rob me of chances,

heat may be taken from my bones,

my food may be eaten by those who already eat,

the sun may burn instead of bless me,

the city may stare yet skip over me,

music may taunt instead of calm me,

sex may hunt instead of pleasure me,

yet–

I am woman, 

of which no one can rob me.