Published poems

where thy feet may fall

Many thanks to Roxana Nastase, editor of Scarlet Leaf Review for including “after the steep climb“, “ballad of an overturned canoe” & “Birobidzhan or one day in the life of Jose Maria” in its December 2016 issue (December 15, 2016). Once again my poetry has been beneficiary of her attention & faith. Please check out & support this online literary journal published from Toronto (Canada) which continues to have my abiding appreciation.

Click here to read : after the steep climb, ballad of an overturned canoe & Birobidzhan or one day in the life of Jose Maria

Thanks everyone for stopping by!

 

Published poems

Three poems

So pleased three poems of mine, I stayed with you when it was dark, Mirador & Inkblot found a home in a Canadian venue. Many thanks to Roxana Nastase, editor in chief of Scarlet Leaf Review for including my poems in their latest issue (March 15, 2016).

 

I stayed with you when it was dark

I left you dead at dawn with no sea around inside an empty rental room where paper flowers crouching before the matter of sky through the shattered window pane with no darkness to become one flesh with you.

I can now look afar off your dead hands which are not beyond the scope of a poem.

 

Mirador

Bouncing over my blue you rolled over like a damn boat as I kept watching you standing in the silence that claimed the night of your skin, the salt of your whispers and sighs, the roses of hope that’d colored my gaze on your smoky skull. Brittle and alone across the page, I look for you in the recesses of my dreams.

That dance was meant to be our last waltz, Soledad, where did you go?

 

Inkblot

i had known it from the start

she said

in sepia

and turned away

i tried to touch her

the membrane felt

and

felt

a song

the overcast

bounced and rolled over

like a damn boat

a hundred years

 

now to stretch away from each other

we imagined scars

where had been living

the extreme rust

 thereafter came the leftover poems

and i got up only to walk up to

monnet’s poppy field

against the wall

and i bent down to

swaying flowers

thinking of her words

gone in blood

the flowers bled to let loose

in the meaning

and

to lose

the meaning

i tucked my dreams and dreads in her chest again

so quick she too opened her ribs

that kept ticking

all our corpses are swimming back up

and the clock

 filled the room

a hundred years

the inkblot now made some sense

 

***

Thank you.