Night winds
Startles my roof
Such a ripeness
In season
Generations of birds
Tucked between branches
Feels like
I am – in
Nineteen eighty five
Everyone was home
Tag: Art
-
Ode to us
We’re not alike
I am – paused
You – straight’shooter
Fracturing the curvature of my spine
If you’re going to love me
Love me – well
Victoring these days
That feel like nights
Resurrected
By one giant sky
-
Hemostasis
Doors between us
You tell me
Be careful with my head
These ambitious thoughts
Must hide them
Like contraband
In this reverent space
I greet you
Making myself
An immediate cautery
Instead of shaking your hand
-
Cover of a poem . .
Familiarity
And wants
In this existence
Just, lives here
Digitally tucked
In a forever
In this valiancy
And under
An extremest sun
I squint
Seeking
God’s own words
Instead of my own
How wondrous of me
Desiring to be
No less than
A cover of a poem
-
When I can’t sleep . .
I think of color
Conte technique
Over this pillow
I shade pebbles
Greater than your hands
Scattering through debris of seeds
In a place with so few trees
Hearing your echo intertwined with mine
What is ‘this’ passion
If you can’t meet me halfway
Sometimes
You feel like a void
That I follow
Without following you
A portraiture
The tonality
Of a single text
-
For: Dad
When I cannot believe
You bring
A pair of knees
To my prayers
One clanking bell
Sounds of certainty
Missing you –
Is like a transverse ache
Dull, penetrating my right side
Fiercely, loving you
Twelve years was apparently enough
For others to never mention your name
Find me in my dreams
So I don’t forget the angles of your face
-
Incandescent
familial • ashes
surrounding its coast
superb • is to forget
because •
in this • geology
anonymity is defeated
by flamboyant royals
their vast sweeping branches
its flowering habit
embracing an entire island
that has lost all hope
– Cuba 2026
-
Everyday
i pass by
the oldest
mountain
denying
every stain
of rain
i should have resolved
the tactics of my faith
-
Shades of Purgatory
I once knew
How light was spent
Its trickling effects
As faith pointed
With a golden rod
My own despair
Sat in a womb of fear
Aware it was not science
My conscious inadvertently
Reversed millions of words
Narrowing it down to one
-God
-
Quiet Resentment
Heavy lines
Mounted over me
These purple nights
Drowning super stars
Forgetting what it is to write
Phosphorus dynamite
Encircles and intertwines
Muting one decade at a time
-
Just hold . .
Stone COLD
Hold ON
You’re still STRONG
NERVE pain loneliness
I haven’t LEARNED anything
EXCEPT for the LINES across your FACE
MORE human, than YESTERDAY
-
Next Train . .
I am adapting
Cowardly, but adapting
This is distinction
Between surviving
And existence
-
Poetry
My mercy
A need to substitute
My mouth, for a dream
Different homes
Pincushions for doorknobs
Damnit I love you
-
‘Brightness Of My Dark’
One must be blind
Stripping God of its own light
Things none of us could be
The profound luster in lines
It’s happening to me
A wound, too echo’d to reveal
That love is not found in days
-
To be broken . .
Fight for insight
God’s copyright
In this interior of light
My signature becomes
A wrath that requires no reason
-
Almost . .
Forgot
How still
Your mind is
This is not
A compliment
It’s rhetoric,
It chokes
The good parts of me
-
Night’Comes
Covers us in blue
In the instant
Of this instant
Memory invents
Another present
A circular courtyard
With superstitious
Flashes of light
Intended to cover
Every crack in our horizon
-
Mimic
The eternities of a second
My whole life to solve
Pitiless searches for a body
To grow old with
Nameless sensations
Such a cruel thing
To miss the dead
With this immeasurable clarity
Like gravid drops of hope
Spinning over itself
Tirelessly, till we learn
How to love, again . .
-
Untimely
The furthest of reaches
Sex seal serpentines
These syllogisms
Transform me
Inside is outside
It is everywhere
And nowhere
Invented
Devoured
– Man
-
Nobody Knows
We live in identical rooms
We blankly wake, we greet
From one balcony to another
Successively for a hundred years
Between now and tomorrow
We will spend the rest of our days
Growing gardens out of angry stars
-
His Heart
Immune to mine
Interiors of gray matter
Granular minerals
Sleepy-colors
Obsolete to some
– Love
-
Untitled
Love clamps itself
Leaving small gaps
With just enough spaces
Allowing you to taste
Your very own tongue
Arrows & Metaphors 
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