gradual decline

defined and documented
blue binding no longer black
posey vest and wrist restraints,
in this bed unable to move
she was selfless in her care
and he so sure of fear,
shifting his backside slightly
legs splinted with sticks,
they had not spoken since
was it love
his mind versed it against
that boiling sensation in his gut
acidic rot sure it would calm,
she believed in the
discernment of spirits
and that sweet ignatian way,
will , desire whatever,
time had no identity any more,
clocks calendar all abandoned burned
ashes to choke his chest
and close his eyes,
she would face the flames one day
of his wrath or something more,
for now his lot
was on this mattress ,
wounded with pride and body
he could not polarize his thoughts
to agree with hers,
all joy had left him
swept away in blood pain and tears,
waiting for the next moment of torture

180

 

 

NPD_logo_colour_landscape

long night after flesh (world poetry day)

fog
a thick rope about my neck
tethered me to harbor wall
goat to oceans sacrifice,
behind obscured
lights and windows of those
who do not feel this way,
having taken the bus
found myself here,
bagged empty bottle
at my feet,
if any cigarette’s remained
i would of lit one
tasted toasted tobacco
tongue on teeth
chin to chest,
dark swirl foam
nymphs invite embrace
no fear in my heart
not the the fear i had felt
before she touched
fingertips before stepping
out of the door
with him,
closed my eyes wished to fall
forward and accept that
deep fate,
yet i flew
leaving behind the wall
and those if they had looked
would of observed
me leaving

 

World Poetry Day 2014

Mario Bojorquez – Award

As the last day does not return
You’ll never be that high voice
Tundía under the breath of infinite almonds
A lullaby to his chest
You will not have to be that
That shade of a poplar
Rent the air with scattered notes
The subtle scent of an afternoon on the river
There will be no day you return to your expense
Filled with memories of the dark obsequious
Solar excessive idleness
Cerns perfect
As the last day does not return
You never on your own steps
A walking path open for you
In the garden that keeps your memory
Not even in deserted Frond you will have to tread
To you because transit between fig fruit
Pomegranates, flowers at your feet
You’re just now that you did not want
You’re the one who did not know what he wanted to say
Greedy mouth no fruit chews
That spoiled, bitch, feast and festival
You’re the insaciado looking with envy
The overwhelming joy of others
Whoever hurts to the bone for the innocent laughter
It will cloud your eyes with anger
It will swell cruel hands remorse
It poisons your blood
What fire, what abandonment
How miserable are the shores of life
As the last day does not return
No back in you will concoct bells
Holidays in flowered fields
Neither your hands browned wheat of eras
Nor whiten your snow on your mill
As if you had closed universe
In a thick fog that prevents you
Learn what the rock crevice
That must be the source where you drink
As if the universe against you
Injected into the air that poison
Bending your knees
So as the day turns
A spin on its hinges hours and passes
And overhead the sun will go down
Lost to
So you lose
So as you lose you lose
The scent in the air that always blows hard
You’ll miss so terribly
That to your eyes can recognize your own skin
Neither your ears hear your voice
As if talking on another that you
Not even your blood
It will respond pálpito
And the tongue utter
A language that is unknown to you today.

Do not grieve

Hurt to lose.
You call Bitter, in your gums
It will bloom a garden of tree-scale
And in your head start seborrhea high tufts
Niagara mist in your eyes
You call without reproach wounded
The living skin ulcer land where you step
Without faith you call
And there will be another you
Built in penalty
That round will infect
Leprosy is righteous
It must distinguish in the market
The mob cried
He will announce you arrive
The stench of your acids
The clear bell is anticipated
And you wondered why back
Why and what
And what return
If the return would smell bouquets awaiting your step
If yes minor fronds fruit curds, cheerful blooms, light concrete and acid,
And back with an army of sources nymphs dancing for you
If I go back in the water, ductile, light, fluent, if in the air
If you awaken in the back you are, if you come back spin, spinning, start from yourself
If you become, if you founded back, come back without hesitation
Although recent days should not happen again

Olga Orozco- No Doors

With burning sands styling a number of fire over time,
law with a wild animal lurking danger from its burrow,
with vertigo looking up,
your love is kindled but a lamp in the middle of the night,
with small fragments of a world consecrated to idolatry,
with the sweetness of sleep with all your skin covering the cost of fear
in the shadow of leisure tenderly opened a range of celestial meadows,
did everyday loneliness I have.
My loneliness is made of you.
Take your name on your side of stone
in tense silence where they can play all the melodies of hell;
walk beside me with your empty step,
and has, like you, that look that I’m going to look farther each time,
yesterday to a glare that dissolves in tears, in ever.
The doors to my left as one leaves the heir to a
                   [Realm of anyone who goes out and never comes back.
And it grew by itself
feeding on these herbs that grow on the edges of memories
and on stormy nights produce mysterious mirages
scenes with the best bonfires fed fevers.
Well I’ve seen people with blurred malls who sacrifice love
-Invincible characters marble, blind-absorbed as the distance,
or deploy in the middle of a room that rain falling seaside
away in another part ¨,
where you will be filling the bowl with water a few years of neglect.
Sometimes blowing on me with a south wind
a stormy song that suddenly breaks into a broken throat groan of bliss,
or try to delete a piece of ragged hope
goodbye that you wrote with the blood of my dreams in all crystals
to smite everything I watch.
My loneliness is all I have of you.
Howl with your voice in every corner.
When named with your name
grows like a sore in the darkness.
And a sunset up in front of me
that cup of sky was the color of wet poplar and in which
                            [We have drunk the wine of eternity each day,
broke and not knowing, to open the veins,
for you were born as a god of his splendid duel.
And he could not die
and his look was that of a madwoman.
He opened a wall
and walked into this room with a room that has no outputs
and where you’re sitting, staring at you in another life like my solitude.

Denise Levertov – Olga Poems

denise levertov olgas poems

the santa is coming

nsa tinsel and filament devices
elves a watching facebook and twitter
the santa is coming
who has been naughty or nice
on sled pulled by drones
war on terror so far unfinished
bringing gifts to a hurting poor
low pay, taxation and what of medicare
food bank turkey in a suspicious world
ho ho ho
debt advice and feeling jolly
check the tree for gps and listening devices
holly wreath marks the door
apocalpyse around the corner
automatic rifle and several handguns
a thousand tins of beans
wal mart generation
in a generation x world
fattened wealthy bulls work the market
bonuses pour from the sky
the santa is coming
ho ho ho
with foreclosure signs
and spooks past and present
the santa is coming
you must feel joyful and triumphant
hand on heart god bless everyone
one and all
primaries and elections
next on elves agenda
so use your time
and think
what do you want
ho ho ho

international christmas

 

feliz navidad

merry christmas

aerial burden of the ox

with the old decades shown in the rain
burdening me with a dampness
remorse in it’s wanting has,
flesh colored dreams
drawn tight into deep constriction
the next day would be more relevant,
sipping a coffee cold at the edges
no plate on the mat
hunger not the issue here,
wet clothes painful to the bone
unnoticed by a vapor soul,
scented thoughts
as my mind peeled
drawn into segments pithy and secretive,
pieces i could look at
and not venture a taste
any sweetness gone
acrid juice spilling over lingering images
this fight so ancient
could break me down at the yoke
leaving a harvested husk
and no resonance,
only to be lifted skywards
coffee grew cold
mat still empty

maelstrom

ardors grip
blinding as searing light
tears open caring heart
anger as old as creation,
tears at family daisy chain
crushing stems
leaving it broken
unhooked green stems
wilting broken asunder
where was the stars
and the open eyes
heart chimed
a mother resolute
that a son will be
not dead to her
but salvage
to be gathered
and supported
mending can be heard
in the blur of tears,
fragile dreams
will be recovered slowly
with different endings
when the darkness
vanishes