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.

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

Then & N o w

february 2012, virgin quiet movie maker friend girlfriend committed no friends in the military no therapy not in love french

2014-03-18 10.59.01

july 2014, traveller brave long hair true love no friends left in hometown unemployed waiting fluent resilient ex-waitress

Suburban Sun

hot sidewalks, dry trees 

kissing in a dusty sunlight dream

teen kings and queens of Suburbia

overgrown grass in abandoned baseball fields,

holding hands like the world will never end,

concrete drive-in and summer cigarettes,

coca-cola and my dying ’87 Honda engine,

fed with gasoline so I could race back to him

baggy jeans and wild hair, now a hometown memory 

some days all I want is to sit by the tracks,

watching the stars, under sheets and glowing stars

sweet air and innocence, breath calm and mind sound…

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.

 

recuerdos perdidos

mucho que hacer. 

vivir esta vida para hacer. 

y que hiciste en final?

besaste los labios de una boca vacía

te encontraste con un alma 

que no sabe soñar.

apenas te acordas de los días antiguos

los fuegos artificiales y vidrios

por las rieles, sabanas en el bosque

un sol que ya no mas brillara en tu vida así.