Mistaken Route

September 2009

I teeter on abashment day by day

and lift my chest along the way

though this was never a habit of mine

before the tides of age and time

had ripened me past the preferred date

and I sat alone in a stalemate

with my own idiosyncrasies to unfold

I now try to escape; this trap has grown old

my face now buried in its own waste

is pushing back and trying to erase

the mistaken route that became my theme

one year before, when I was too green.

Eternal Summer

October 2009  

Eternal summer 
knocks on my bedpost 
during these cold nights 
like the memories of past lovers 
 
In this aphotic air 
you, dear memories, 
disrupt 
my spurious submission  
to winter's solitude. 
 
Tears are my sweet compatriots 
who rush to me in a crescendo 
of self pity and fleeting 
emotion   

You are my comfort, 
my friends, when I am 
abandoned by summer's  
salacious breath.

Los Elementos de Alpinismo

September 2009

Las fotos no puedan articular la fatiga ni el triunfo de escalando Olomana. Cuesta los espíritus y la energía de cada persona alcanzar la tercera cima de la montaña. En el grupo de cuatro, empezamos subir por las ramas. Cada persona contribuya un elemento esencial del grupo. A la arriba, era Yumi, una mujer de treinta cuatro años quien nunca pierde una sonrisa radiante. Hasta cuando tenía dolor y cuando estaba agotada nunca perdió su bello espíritu. El próximo era Kenny, un chico quien conocí en mi escuela secundaria, pero nunca conocí de verdad hasta este verano en el barco. (Aunque es posible decir que nunca conoces alguien hasta que pasas tiempo con ellos atrapado en un barco). Kenny en la frente parece muy tímido y pasivo, pero eso es solo en la frente. Él tiene la inteligencia de cinco humanos y el ingenio de diez más, pero tiene el encanto de un zorrillo sedado. Recuerdo la primera y última tiempo que oí la risa de él. Parece impráctica e incomoda. Sin obstante, aumentó un elemento esencial al grupo. Quizás lo más controvertido era Teley, escalando adelante de Kenny. Teley es una persona muy especial y muy malinterpretado. Del momento que encuentre alguien, entra en erupción de energía. Su energía persiste en cada momento, echando fuera la gente quien no puede entender el espíritu de él, y encantando los otros. Es el animador más grande para todos y para él mismo. La tierra de la montaña ofreció sus alimentos y la disciplina que necesita cada persona, y también cada espíritu en el grupo fue un instrumento a lograr nuestra meta a subir hasta la tercera cima de la montaña.

As You Etch our Initials

September 2009 You etch our initials into my arm As I stand there with furrowed brow bewildered as to how you got so close to touch me. The first cut catches me off guard my head spinning as I watch a stream of blood form down my wrist you see the startled look in my eyes and quickly lick up the blood and pat my head I breathe in You breathe out: "good girl". I pity you in your desperate attempts to make your mark in my life so I let you make the second cut as I hold my breath to fight the pain Your hands are steady as you carve but your heart is a trembling mountain of insecurities Your hands can lie, but your eyes cannot. Two days pass and you finish your work then make your leave but though the mark is made my skin is nurtured and determined to heal I will mend the wounds in the days to follow and keep my distance the next time around my skin will not be as strong to withstand the pain and heal past the branding that you are so determined to inflict.

The Resurrection of Self Destruction

February 2009 I yank at each strand of my hair until the roots seep dark purple lullabies. I am the creator with no name, no voice, and without those, I have no song. I pull my left arm using my right until it drops to my feet upon which i kick it into the street gutter to float away with the rest of the storm's debris. My eyes are left alone, they have no purpose and are therefore forgotten just as my name, just as my voice. Still too much is left intact so I take the measuring tape that bulges in my pant pocket and wrap it around and around my waist until it cuts into my flesh and I am two inches in diameter. I continue circling it around me until the upper half of my body tips slowly off its axis and hits the floor. But I am not satisfied for, what if someone finds me and in a moment of kindness sews my pieces back together? I cannot run this risk, So I call back my limb from the drain, and using my one good arm sew it back to my body. Then I fasten my upper half back to my lower at the waist. Still worried that someone might find me and try to mend me back together, I take off running in search of a place where I will not risk somebody stopping me and wanting to put me back together. I keep running and running for I have not been able to find anywhere that I can settle back down and remove myself, limb by limb slice away my body, part by part. Each place I go, there is someone there waiting to help waiting to put me back together.

The Voices of Memory’s Ghost

February 2009

I.

Four spring silhouettes climb the salt kissed stairs

ahead of me

the ocean hugs my ankles

devours my toes

I step out of its safe grasps

into gusty chills.

The tall figure lurks along that grey-jagged wall

I approach

he approaches

quivering legs of a fawn

my mind scatters in alizarin confusion

Violation.

I'm running

unsteady

feathers shot out of a cannon.

The clock prowls six p.m., seven, eight

they come

they go

i leave with them

but my eyes are stone and theirs are an eclipse.

Tethered to my own demise

memory is buried beneath

blankets of empty disguise

i will forget

i will forget

II.

He looks into the mirrors that have become my eyes

i look at him looking at me

looking at him

desolation extends

between us

stale passivity seeps out of my pores

i am too far gone

away from anyone's grasp

but he has reached me.

Our gaze becomes my canvas

as I redraw the pieces of myself

that I have erased

discarded

disowned

He tells me I am

normal

a concept that I have long since

given up on

like an awaited season that passed

never to return.

We all decide what to do with

the voices that torture our existence.

I will take a walk with them

barefoot in the morning dew

sit down with them

in the

soft hush of the night's air

and for the first time

properly introduce myself.

Our Best Season Has Come To An End

December 2007 Acres we walk through So fruitful and glorious and the birds are chirping They bring promise like morning’s gentle hands as he strokes light on the hills No they will never stop their chirping and we are sure of that So sure that we’d bet the passion that surges pulsating through our veins Spring reassures us in every ambition as each day brings us closer to our ideal of perfection We never would have expected the trees to turn so soon or that the harsh cold could sweep me to such a different world so far from where we walked before I crave you by my side in the same comfort of perfection that we stood with before but the seasons have changed and we cannot disrupt the course of nature in her whirling confusion So I crawl into the nearest shelter where I lie alone as the cold consumes everything around me creeping into every corner even reaching into me until all that is left of you and I is coated in sterile blankets of winter fear for what we have become is all that remains and all that will come of our beautiful walks through the park if I allow this new season to define everything that we are and everything that we were So I will chose a different path today And explore this new land with clean eyes Of appreciation as we allow the season to pass.