Category Archives: 365 for 2013

365 for 2013: (11) Mirrors and Walls

The light hits the glass
and meets the eyes.
Fractions of the room are drawn
together, framed, illuminated.
A new painting, the image conceived
beckons truth
and lies.

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365 for 2012: (10) An Exercise in Writing Letters No. 1

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The thoughts ran faster than the words could
arrange themselves neatly in line. Properly
waiting to nod their heads
at the end of the sentences.

So I rearrange them again.

And in carefully placed punctuations
and calculated silences between syllables,
I fold myself silently. Breaking
into shards and splinters
so that in the gaps where the thoughts are unsaid
pieces of me could slip in quietly,
almost unseen.
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365 for 2013: (9) Captured, Stolen, Framed

Quickly captured, a smudge,
a trick, a splitsecond stolen
then framed, then thrown 
onto the wall, this memory —
a shade less bashful,
a brushstroke braver,
a degree warmer than midnight’s fever.

Here, a wasted glance.
Here, the corner you refuse to 
sign your name on to.

 

(Or whatever, later, maybe a verse longer, maybe titled better)

 

Captured, Stolen, Framed

 

 

365 for 2013: (7) when the loss is one you refuse to own

when the doors of the elevator open

my eyes will make its way through

dressed in amber and rose

looking back at the space 

of secrets only mirrors inside the box know 

you dont reach out

because i am no longer with you

i am no longer with you

 because i am within

i will be in the space you breathe

in the same rhythm you beat

in the same paths through doors that close

and open again

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365 for 2013: (6) Mama


They speak of you as light,
Ray of cosmic brilliance
My own creator, goddess:
Mother.
Stardust scatters beautiful
on the universe of your face,
charting paths that glimmer of passageways
that curve to your cradling–
fingers, arms, shoulders, laps, belly—
and then the bank of the river of your hair
where, despite decades, I stumble to
find promised solace.
The strands stretch out and mark trails
Of moonpaths and sunbeams
On childhood scars you covered
With whispered comfort then band-aids.
My fingers follow these memories, finding myself
teetering on the center of your palm where I trace,
the pulse that beats
the blood of your love
In my veins.Mama

Because this poem deserved to be born today more than on Mother’s Day. What we celebrate today is your being born to this world. That’s the greatest thing that ever happened to me, otherwise nothing else would have happened 🙂 Happy birthday Mama.
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365 for 2013: (5) Before Gravity

Naive

would be the first word

an apple, fallen, breathes

to the ground. It rolls, sullen. 

While sunlight, air, mist,

dabs its bruises

with a kiss. 

April 24, 2013

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This summer, I lost in a game I played with my students in class. The  consequence for anyone who lost was to show the class something special that you can do. So I stood there with a pen and the whiteboard and asked them to throw at me random words at random moments. I just let the words work their magic. 

 

Now, the class is almost over. I almost couldn’t believe it.

I can still hear the apple breathe. 

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365 for 2013: (4) treasure hunting

i know where you should be but you refused to be found so i dipped the tips of my fingers in gold and settled for a version of treasure that your chest would not offer up; the sentences still go different ways and i try to chase them but you’ve put the commas in so many random places i’m forced to dot the end of my phrases and  each time another one of  your commas show up, a swoop beneath the dot, almost as if it says we should go back. but that messes up the map and then X is no longer the point to pursue but a footnote to the treasure that should now be dug up. not all that glitters is good for the soul, we offered a toast to that. we know where the shiny things are and we could have been led to that but the holes we fall into are much more interesting. and in the interstice between where we’ve fallen and where we’ll land, all your words come rushing through and i’m rushing just as fast. this is another terrain we’re traversing, another target we’re hunting. my compass points me to a direction which i reckon now defines forward, though it be pointing away from the pot of gold they’ve laid out for you and me, it is exactly where you didn’t tell me we have to be.  i will find you there. i have nothing else to seek.  the stardust from my fingertips have seeped into my veins, it has made my blood rich. while all these chests and troves, heavy as they may be, will never have enough to hold.

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365 for 2013: (3) As I Stand With You

In reference to the poem ‘The Flag’ from Pablo Neruda’s The Captain’s Verses. Here is my pledge.

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The truth is I would run with you.

 

These nights when no bed can hold us

down, these blankets uncover us,

bare, shivering

in our desires, quivering

as our hearts beat out our souls

ascending out of our skins.

The satellite of your gaze keeps me

locked in the orbit of your heat,

your passion. And I am in place,

surrounding  you. Moving. Still.

 

By you, without doubt,

no fear; with you, certain,

standing, constant as you

have taught me, faithful

as I have known. Steadfast.

 

We own the truths we know.

We will fight the battles that need to be won.

 

And if your fingers speak

Of fear, let them tremble

against my palm, with my own.

And if your body exhales

exhaustion, fall upon me

your back to my chest.

And I  will keep us upright;

our grasp, firm, our breath

steady, our eyes burn.

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365 for 2013: (2) From the Leaf to the Lover

Meant as a gift. 

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In the fiercest of winds

and the most glaring of summers,

I may tremble, even wither;

but in the passing of seasons

and the changing weathers,

I will bloom in the dusk,

feed on stardust

and you will find me there.

In the scent of moonlight

and warmth of sunrise,

You will find me there. 

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365 for 2013: (1) When The Sun Sets

Yes, I just changed the year. Let’s see if I can go beyond 67 this time 🙂

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Utterly fascinating, universe. This is my 113th entry on 1/13/2013 exactly a year after my first entry in 1/13/2012.

The first one was called When The Sun Sets.

This is the image of how my fantasy should be processed by my brain.

There’s a thick cloud covering a great portion of the sky, drawing a straight line that defines where the stars appear and disappear. The horizon should stretch as far as the eyes could see, but heaven sets its limits on mine.

Fair enough. The divide between the starry and starless sky evens out as the night deepens anyway. And the stars do shine bright. They pop out in the dark. Twinkling and dancing, too.

Now, let’s take the same title, but let’s see where movements of heaven will take us this time.

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On the road, they follow the path

set for home, they trudge on

the streets that lose and take

up space. Crowded, they flow. Smears

of sunset on tinted windows

 

there it goes—

 

then gone, then there again, a flash

so soon missed by eyes

that blink, and clouds that trick

sight about light, celestial bandits.

On the road up in space,

they make their way home:

into each other, crowding

together before falling

back home.

 

A shard of sunset disappears

In the glare of a streetlight.

 

Dusk has pulled out its carpet

on the road. Above us,

a map of needle-tip lights appears:

our way back

home.

               

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