Wednesday, December 25, 2013

The way death should meet all things big and small

mounted on flying,
invented creatures
crossing distances to

hold hands with
the very first memory
they have of being alive

laughing at the
wind that plays
with their hair

confident that they'll
remember such dream
whenever time comes

to open their eyes.
Death should come then
and watch their sleep.


Two boys climbing a tree this morning,
on my way to the market.

A father watching the two of  them closely.
A mother watching the three of them lovingly.

On my way to the market,
the road I have not taken teases me.

Sunday, December 22, 2013


Of all things we own,
why do we insist on
time spent with the ones
we don't?

The water in rivers,
the top of the mountains,
a place in someone's bed.

how fortunate it is
death comes to some
sweetly through your lips
crawling slowly
down one's legs.

Kill the messenger

You come into my life
too late
to understand
the pulse.

A hundred times
this world
at my dreams,

a hundred times
it surrounded me
with pain
to toughen me up.

I stand alone.

Thursday, December 19, 2013

The slightest intention

He saw it on my full stops,
I say things in punctuation.

He came and brought quiet
to my endless confusion.

He crams me,
I devour him. 

We make meaning from
the slighest intention.

The first storm

For every nautical mile advanced in the dark
I am the captain of a new paper boat.

Because I am often unable
to tell merak from polaris,

I move my heart farther south
in the cartesian plane.

Then I falter, I am reminded
these are not my waters,

I am far from home,
I wouldn't survive the first storm. 

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

On a train

I had a dream
that we shared a wagon on a train
and you didn't see me.

Growing old,
I refused being a wound
to become shelter,
I passed up being a whim
to become a morning.

This world is full of distraction.

Monday, December 16, 2013


Oblivion is a place
where no one tells stories.

All things forgotten
cease to exist.

This house is just a house.
This man on the mirror is just a man.

By holding my hand
you teach me a memory.

Let us write poems that
shall outlive us.

Sunday, December 15, 2013

I wasn't hiding

I have tried and been
true to the path.

I went in the sun and
let it burn my skin,

I let it burn my skin.
I wasn't hiding.

Saturday, December 14, 2013


He thinks I should marry you
despite the distance and the age
difference and the fact we always
fall in love with people who do not
deserve our time or attention,
but never with each other.

He thinks I should marry you because
when in the history of cinema have
two people not gotten together
after the boy plays his guitar to the girl
singing at his best the lyrics of a song
he barely knows just to impress her?

He thinks I should marry you
because he believes, no matter
how broken two people might have been,
they can be fixed with gold and resin,
like in kintsugi, and what once looked
ugly and sad to someone's eyes,
can get its beauty back by being whole again.

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

The person I don't want to lose

These days I make memories
from magazine cutouts 
and glue.

This world attempts to
drive you out of my mind,
the passing of days.

There is work to do
there are places to be
but just a few hours to dream.

When I cross the house
in the dark to have a glass of water

you're still the person I don't want to lose. 

Monday, December 9, 2013

How I heal

I lose you
when you choose
to leave me out
of your life,
but you too lose me.

You know my mind
is on you now,
but where has it been
at three in the afternoon
every day this spring?

You've been around,
you learned
how to hurt me,
still you don't know
how I heal.

The things we are not saying

At three a.m.
waking up from
induced sleep

I like it that you
are the first words
on my mind.

talk to me because 
I'm in an awful bar,
you say.

I'm waking up
 from fever,
 I say.

And we laugh over
the things we are not

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Into the abyss

When in a dream sleep
the things I've been willing to tell you.

Have we been real
because we could touch each other?

If we disappear now,
will you find me in another life?

Love is
the last word into the abyss.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

three hundred and sixty five

Night will forgive me
for the noise.

I name your hours
and walk around the house

trying to repeat your steps
in a parallel universe.

There is quite little space
for such pain.

I lock myself in the bedroom
but I don't know how to pray.

I've given your name to
three hundred and sixty five days.