"Tus Pies" por Pablo Neruda

 

Cuando no puedo mirar tu cara

miro tus pies.

 

Tus pies de hueso arqueado,

tus pequeños pies duros.

 

Yo sé que te sostienen,

y que tu dulce peso

sobre ellos se levanta.

 

Tu cintura y tus pechos,

la duplicada púrpura de tus pezones,

la caja de tus ojos que recién han volado,

tu ancha boca de fruta,

tu cabellera roja,

pequeña torre mía.

 

Pero no amo tus pies

sino porque anduvieron

sobre la tierra y sobre

el viento y sobre el agua,

hasta que me encontraron.

Power of the Pen (in response to the Charlie Hebdo Shooting)

I remember when the pen was innovative--
Wrote the classics,
Composed the epics,
Scribbled satirical plays and poems.

I remember when the pen was thoughtful--
Pondered philosophy,
Questioned the impossible,
Challenged the norm.

I remember when the pen was sword--
Slayed injustice,
Decapitated corruption,
Massacred the malevolent.

Once an ink-soaked quill,
Now pen is gun.
Firing bullets
of prose
of poetry,
of illustration and expression--
free expression.

Now, enemy fired
with tangible bullets
of hatred,
of pride,
of cruelty,
The pages bleed,
The comics cry in agony.

Now blood-soaked, the page
is stained red
red seeps into each word
and for a moment
the message is no longer seen.

Another moment,
the page,
like a sponge, absorbs each blow
and the message becomes coherent,
engorged,
empowered

In hundreds
in thousands
in millions and more!

All for expression.
All for humanity.
All for freedom.

Je suis Charlie.

New Year Poem 2015

It's a new year--

New goals
New friends
New loves.

New triumphs
New mistakes
New lessons learned.

New disciplines
New cynicism
New doubts.

New hope
New dreams
New life.

But are these not all stagnant?
Not all the same
Still
The new year engrains
in our brains
that all will be different as before

But some things never change.

Goals are goals
Friends are friends
Loves are loves

Triumphs come and go
Mistakes are made often
Lessons are learned each day

Disciplines are overrun
by old habits
Old habits die hard
Cynicism is still in style
Doubts still brings us down

Hope in things to come
Dreams in what might be
Life to change
at the stroke of twelve
at the drop of the--

Ball.

Interpret the new year as you will
As you always do
Keyword "always"
Diet
Dance
Dine
Divine, isnt it?
Or dine
dance
then diet.
It doesn't matter.

Treat everyday like a new year
And you'll most likely lose the weight you want
Or you'll be treated for your short term memory loss
Hey but you'll be a size 0 in no time!

Trust

Trust--
Precious until broken,
Difficult to determine
If I should
Give that to you willingly,
Without hesitation

Trust--
A gift given or a penny earned
or a disposable diamond.
Yes, tis disposable
In my current usage,
No true conviction.

Trust--
Cautious and careful,
Developed overtime,
It should be earned.
Or should it?
Could it be assumed?
Granted firsthand until betrayed?

Both are practical and fair,
The second more naive--
Less cynical.
Do I trust you?
Do I dare?

New Year Poem 2014

It's a new year
new me?
No.
I'm still the same
but
everyone else thinks theyve changed
at the stroke of twelve
at the drop of a ball
they suddenly believe they can conquer all
The truth is
they fall into a slump one month in.

It's a new year
new resolutions
No.
New and impossible promises to oneself
we do the opposite
we move backwards
we conquer nothing once again.

It's a new year
new cynicism.

Keeping Things Whole by Mark Strand

In a field
I am the absence
of field.
This is
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what is missing.

When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body's been.

We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.

We grow accustomed to the Dark by Emily Dickinson

We grow accustomed to the Dark -
When Light is put away -
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp To witness her Good bye -

A Moment -
We uncertain step
For newness of the night -
Then - fit our Vision to the Dark -
And meet the Road - erect -

And so of larger - Darknesses -
Those Evenings of the Brain -
When not a Moon disclose a sign -
Or Star - come out - within - The Bravest - grope a little - And sometimes hit a Tree Directly in the Forehead -

But as they learn to see -
Either the Darkness alters -
Or something in the sight Adjusts itself to Midnight -
And Life steps almost straight