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…

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Leaving Earth

I wanted stardust

and to breathe the air that created me

I wanted “puridad de la vida”

So now I fly, like I’m leaving Earth.

 

What will I do without my brothers?

Mis hermanos de la humanidad–

Mi familia que es la ciudad

Esta rincón de almas

que es el mundo.

 

What will I do without la diversidad?

Without this oasis

where we feel one and the same?

Pero anhelo el universo,

quiero que sea mi hogar

So I fly, like I’m leaving Earth.

 

Otra vez veré al sol?

A mi gente, las playas y sandias, las piletas celestes?

Otra vez escucharé el spanglish en las calles?

Sometimes it seems this is the only place to be.

Pero aunque amo, no puedo dejar los pensamientos más soñadores.

So I fly…

 

 

Empty home

every place on Earth empty of you

but where you are–

oh fireless, vacant hills at night,

which were my comfort,

why do they no longer glow nostalgically,

but only whir relentlessly

into dust and lostness?

navy sky, starless blue

like the sadness of Los Angeles:

beautiful, hopeless;

a black hole: full of everything,

meaning nothing,

forever spinning,

consuming light.

only attractive by its mystery,

which is, in the end, its nothingness.

I am aching with the absence of true home:

the arms of love…

everywhere in the world is empty of you,

gray without your presence,

until I fly homeward once again.

 

 

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.

 

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.

hope on the road

sitting on her couch, watching movies on my laptop

Energy drink, styrofoam pasta bowl on the table

only the kitchen light on,

wish I had a place of my own.

she makes a cake in the LA night

talking in her apartment under yellow light

I’m still on the road

and I’ve been living off of hope.

between my dreams of Chile and Argentina,

my heartland mountains calling to me,

and my chicana mornings of platanos and crema,

it’ll be forever difficult to choose.

I miss his arms and my city’s soul

but I will long for the nights here,

I am sure I will need

my city of angels once more.

I am sticky with fever and

dizzy with dreams;

missing her

humid nostalgic memories…