Whitman Yoga

Walt Whitman does some beach yoga. Leaves of Grass Read Cartagena, 2013

The best sex poem you will have

Good things can be found via a well-edited Twitter account. Mine is not one. Per the advice of a few Twiterati friends, I am following back everyone and anyone who will follow me. So, I inevitably follow someone called ‘Bella Swan’ and another called ‘Cupid’s Arrow.’ No offense, but their thing is just not my […]

Bathroom Talk

  Watching you pee in front of me while we talk about not being late It’s true we shouldn’t be late to things I try to remember when we began peeing and talking In front of each other I wish I could remember I would tell you I wish I had to pee So that […]

The Feeling of Being Hungover

Sometimes, I get so tired of poetry. It asks for so much– makes me feel hungover. Or if I am hungover– makes me feel dumb and slow. As if merging on the freeway– I am swallowed, trapped– though it was my decision to go. Written April 2013

Llena

  de dudas y preguntas que luces opacas contra tu pared   llena de cansancio y de los hombros cansados que componen el sufrimiento narrado   arrastrada – tengo sueño – cargada con el mal uso de mi tiempo   Escrito 2008

Overdue Love Letter

  Minus the saliva on paper The hesitant comma Barely smeared   Impatient still Signed and dated Sealed   I offer every swerve Soft wrist and stiff neck   Dear, This is my wet black ink   Written 2005  

Cansancio fácil

  Decir jueves en la tarde Tal vez un listado Llamadas cortas, recibidas   El cigarrillo provoca Noticia del día leída Agotada   Hora de rendir Tantos brazos estirados Asientos reclinados   En resumen Mejor mañana Terminamos   Escrito 2007

Word of the day: Poivrotte

A Moveable Feast. Ernest Hemingway. Read Bogotá, March 2013 Related articles Hemingway’s Paris (anotherbonjour.wordpress.com) A Moveable Feast (thewritecaravan.wordpress.com) Adventures of a Moveable Feast (adventuresofamoveablefeast.wordpress.com) A Writer’s Wisdom: Ernest Hemingway (persephonewrites.wordpress.com) Books About Paris (parisinmypocket.wordpress.com)

Fifteen Minutes

  In the fifteen minutes you claimed would elapse before you arrived at my house wearing a tuxedo,   I read Charles Bukowski and saw the December boat parade. Before you arrived, I heard blow horns punctuate the salsa CD   spinning in my bedroom. I read about Bukowski’s cats, both of them, and their […]

God Blog

  Blogging is a real religion. It is how I feel small but connected to the big, to the unknown, to the better than I, to that life after I die.   It is how I beg to be liked by being good.   Written 2013

Late Night Poem

  It is no secret to me that Leonard Cohen drank too much wine late at night, listening to someone like Leonard Cohen on too much wine late at night. I am no better than myself.   The way I break down is sudden and graceful, with altruism, helping hand, my head held up so […]

Autóctono

  Un pueblo autóctono, explicaste, pesca y come; encuentra piedras hace regalos; corta paja vende sombreros; inventa sombra y luego la cobra.   Escrito 2007

Tragedy at Sushi Siam

  Today I read about poetic time and poetic space, about how allegories are imagined and metrics not.   I read about real efforts to compose, allusions, footnotes, tool sheds as help.   I read all this believing in it, not knowing that tonight you would be where I was,   and I would need […]

La sede

Si la ciencia afirma que lo material creado está; Y la historia señala con diez dedos hacia atrás; Y la poesía rima sin entender el mar; Uno parado en centro mediano de rincón urbano Muy solo tiene que estar.   Escrito mayo 2010

Sorry Afterthought

No language When spoken Suits me   I could try to remember more Read slower Drink less   Practice inserting one word into a daily sentence Oh! – The conversations   New sounds digested on my saturnine tongue Aardvark   Adjurations dropped after the birthday boy asked   Written 2009

Aquel que carga Kleenex

  Algo tiene que ver con cerezas frescas, limpias y quietas en un recipiente transparente.   Con tomar al diente de león del andén de polución y soplar sin escupir.   Con llevar listado al mercado, caminar en renglones, y guardar antes de probar.   Escrito mayo 2009  

Shell

Not a slightly quivering shell covering solace love anymore Nor the sturdy come home sounding doors awake aside Ground fallen stymied lump of grab There here visible unto us Growth of silence flowerlike confident bloom Room light thickened butter weight gasps of air Lungs confront chest mirror throat Styrofoam plea squeaks through Bargain snaps iceberg […]