I awoke in darkness beneath the moon
Where the light was dim, but for a slender ray
That fell upon my face, and none other.
Orchards of dreams were disguised
As beggars crooning a song of desolation,
And the profligate morning birds
Were still asleep, resting their dainty warbles.
Te he escrito un poema.
No es gran cosa.
Me salió como una premonición,
Entre lágrimas y sonrisas.
Te lo escribí porque
Por el momento me quieres,
Porque eres brillante, y bella,
E indescriptible.
I will with equanimity my life
Face, or so says the morning me that sill
Perfection dreams, still sequesters the knife
The serrated sun wields. O, how night stills
SNAP
Goes the can of beans,
The soda-can-dreams
That fizz and hiss
On their way to oblivion.
America is the land
That without irony
Sells both the cigarette
And the nicotine patch.
It was late and the insomniac moon
Played cold music in my ears,
A seashell hum foot-tapping
To the beat of toss-turning dreams.
1
Blades of grass
Waiving in the wind;
Blades of wind
Waiving in the grass.
I stare into the vastness of space in love with its vastness, how light is both particle and wave, how little we understand, how what we know boggles the mind. I gaze into the quilt-blue of your eyes in love […]
Why can I not forget when forgetting is the cure?
The warm, wet beach hisses and coos, but her allure
Belongs to those who want to rest. I do not want to rest.
“Listen to your doctor,” they say.
“You are but human! You can’t go on like this!”
Let not the sun emerge and lacerate
The clouds, nor graffiti the sky with light,
That like a cloistered rose I may escape
The bee’s advance, escape the fragrant plight
Of sweaty stars, of wet earth, of erect
Plants and pregnant birds; I seek asylum
I am the Founder & CEO of Capital Good Fund, a nonprofit social venture seeking to tackle poverty through financial services. I am also a writer, poet, cyclist, and avid reader. Enjoy my blog!