Torn Heart Tree
Posted on December 22, 2008 Leave a Comment
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
Posted on December 22, 2008 Leave a Comment
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
Posted on December 22, 2008 Leave a Comment
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
Posted on December 22, 2008 Leave a Comment
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.
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.