The Storm

I followed you
but you left me in the sky….
You left clouds rushing through my skin.
The clouds rampaged through my soul like gray bulls,
their hooves beat against the surface of my spirit.
Thunder erupted as my soul screamed your name
only to hear the echo drift from my tongue
like a tiny leaf falling from a branch.
I looked closer at the leaf
and noticed behind the leaf’s skin
there was a dancing flame,
there was lightning.

The leaf ignited
and erupted into a star.
The rays of light began to stretch through the night sky.
The rays of light began to grow stronger,
forming branches,
forming a giant white tree that expanded
from one point of the horizon to the next,
from the branches snow fell like droplets of fruit.
You stormed as the clouds covered your roots.
You stormed
and snow fell outside
my empty bedroom
in Los Angeles.

Concert Queen

Her eyes
like two white
Spanish guitars.
Brown holes,
black pupil strings.
Eyelashes laced,
intertwining tuning pegs.

When she stares,
when she stares,
angels play her eyes,
and I sit there,
her enchanted audience,
listening to the divine music
of her glances,
tossing roses at her feet,

at her floating feet.

My Sun

My Sun
in the sky,
blazing crown.
Flames
like fiery swords.
Cut.
The sky bleeds light.
Flames
like fiery swords
strike the Earth
like lightning,
the hills are on fire,
flashes,
the hills are on fire.
In the ashes
I see your pictures.
Each ash
contains a memory of you.
Memories crackling in the cold wind
like autumn leaves.
Your illuminating images
spread throughout the world.

My Sun
of Hope,
They will not destroy us.
We will destroy them.

Torn Heart Tree

The red throbs
out of the ground
breaking into two
halves. The branches
dangle . . . . The
arteries intertwine
pressing
down.
Their leaves like eyes
stare,
their fruits shaped like tears
feed.
The taste of sorrow
dripping down my lips.
Bite. Splash.
Baptism.
I touch the fleshy grass
with nervousness
as I watch the sunset
in my soul.
She leaves
and
my night.

Remain

I want to sleep in your eyes,
under those brown blankets
like two giant autumn leaves they cover me.

I want to sleep in your eyes,
under those steaming sheets of hot tears,
which keep my naked body warm.
I want to sleep in your eyes,
under those brown blankets.
I shiver as I feel
the tears dripping on my legs,
the tears shaped like a million tiny hands,
touch me
as my eyes grow tired,
leaving their fingerprints
to mark my body, scar my body.

When she closes her eyes to go to sleep,
in the darkness,
I reach for the hands,
and my fists remain clutched . . . to nothing,
nothing.

The Rage

Holding her
she breathes . . . .

I feel warm horses
trample up my neck
each landing of a hoof
murmurs a syllable.
I listen as the horses
rage in slow motion
their muscular legs moves like wheels,
like two spinning records,
the syllables begin falling together,
whispering songs.

I hear her voice . . . .
I hear her voice . . . .

But today
she went away . . . .

The horses lay scattered
on my skin.
I dig graves
in the cemetery of my memory
where I lay those cold and silent creatures
to be remembered.

She is away,
I hear her voice . . . .
She left me
with a slaughtered
mind.
I, hear, her, voice . . . .
She, is, away.
I, feel, her, breath . . . .

Such a Beautiful Creation

I took a walk in a white storm.

Your name was written in the blue rain.
The syllables were spoken by the red thunder.
In each raindrop I saw your picture — I took some to
put in my coat pocket
— to hang in my room.
And in a few puddles I saw you walking
in others I saw you talking,
in some I saw you sleeping,
in some I saw you smiling.

The raindrops that fell on the leaves
sounded like fingers on a guitar,
the raindrops that fell on the ground
sounded like fingers on a piano,
and the raindrops that got entrapped — in the wind
— sang
with the sweet melody and tender harmony
of a flute.
At that moment life was the echo
of beautiful creations.

It began raining harder,
until the puddles broke into streams,
all the scenes began flowing together,
each image was a shimmer in the river
of beauty.

The river of beauty.

That day I decided the greatest way to enrich my life
was with your life . . . .
Such a beautiful creation.

Every summer
I cried and bled by the river
to keep the river rushing.
Eventually, I died by the river
listening to the lullaby
of the calming waters . . . .

Such a beautiful creation.