Are you
now
Outta sight, outta
mind, or are you
the kind
to love more
what’s lost
and toss
a trash can on your foot,
on your big toe?
I did this two nights ago.
It was funny. I wish
I could have laughed
with you.
Instead, I scuffed my shoe.
Things will be
as they shall be.
I will
will you,
so long as
you
will me.
Hoop/Life Lesson #23
Find the balance: keep momentum; maintain control.
Music by Aventura #LosInfieles
cause even if ya gone you can
still be reborn and
from the night
can arrive
a sweet dawn
and
I.
One that distinguishes light not by depth
of eyes, but by the honey that smoothes
the tongue and calms the throat. Like slant
rhyme, it hurts my ear: as it hurts my words:
as it hurts my heart to juxtapose.
My mimes are dry: Two tacky tongues
on a dusk-trodden patio, splitting a New-
port and a Gatorade. If that were me—
if I were one—I’d never be the fancy
type to cuddle under the pit with a
side smile and cheeks and eyes pulled high
behind the wisp of a tight fish-tail braid.
I have never been the type to left-look
or look right, mine cannot strike
the right pose, like the sepia snapshot
of toes, beyond tinsel and trimming
and tool, with sequin trinkets
imprinted by the sun, in the sand.
Today I bow before the forgotten land.
I found what was dry. It was a rhyme
that wet my thirst and brought me home.
II.
The poet’s club is the only I ever fit. I’m
too silent a member of all the rest.
At other meetings, I sit still and second
guess which speaker is proctoring
the test. I cannot rest in a room
where exists too many tapping things
to observe. My court adjourns. I stand,
the Green Giant, and try to slip out.
I return as guilty as a black eye, bruised,
wrinkled as a ruckle, from my ‘hose
down to my shoes. Beyond double doors,
encrusted by a brand so cheap
my chipped crimson-kissed nails could scab-
rip the acronym of its acrylic, I’m met
by a freckled ginger: pure and erased; curves
cleaned by over-sized sweaters, made heavy
to straighten the waist; with a straight bang
framing the sides of her face; and everyday,
a confused pony-tail swinging blasé,
like a tail at the nape of her ass.
She was washed like a mid-west twang.
An admin as boring as her name (Jane),
in a Crayola plain as nude. She was a pigment
I once too confused to use. It was too
pink, lacking too much something.
I’m no Dali, but I’m sure
it was earth. I prefered
to build Raw Sienna and Tumble-
weed upon a burnt base, a desert
sand. Red, in lesser form, sends
an eye strength signals; in excess,
sinks a land too deep, and wastes.
III.
I bounce and fly like a skinny girl, high
like sabotaged, like tag-teamed on a
trampoline. I look and see you below,
fumbling the streets I once fled.
Your tongue:stung. Your track: torched.
There is an alarm. There are men in red.
I must find you and tell you, you are
rolling dead. Instead, I shake
and wake. I was given wings and a bounce.
I can only save you if I forget
to fly. I told you,
I like red, but hate roses;
I always let red roses die.
Fine Tune your Hoop Skills w/ R&B Jams #Slow Motion
Music by the late great, Aaliyah #4PageLetter
by St. John of the Cross
She caught me off guard when my
soul said to me,
“Have we met?”
So surprised I was
to hear her speak like that
I chuckled.
She began to sing a tale: “There was once a hardworking man
who used to worry so much because he could
not feed and clothe his children and
wife the way he wanted.
There was a beautiful little chapel in the village
where the man lived and one day while
he was praying, an angel
appeared.
The angel said, ‘Follow me.’ And he did out into an ancient forest.
‘Now dig here,’ the angel said. And the man felt strength in
his limbs he had not known since youth and with just
his bare hands he dug deep and found a
lost treasure, and his relationship
with the world changed.’
Finding our soul’s beauty does that–give us
tremendous freedom
from worry.
“Dig here,” the angel said–
“in your soul,
in your
soul.”
I woke late
but woke soon, changed,
ate and drank
the rain – exhaled, and
came down
from the cloud
I juiced.
To you, I say,
put the dishes away;
I scrub.
I sweep, you
vacuum.
I’ll bathe, clean
up my act and clean
the litter box.
We’ll go to the market
for fruits,
that bogo on juice –
and begin the week
with this melody
I found
planning.
I go to say, too
quickly – pero
coño! how
could
you – I
made
you,
Him–
but the child
in me; the eternal
voice shouts,
I
LOVE
YOU
THIS
BIG
by Hafiz
Admit something:
Everyone you see, you say to them,
“Love me.”
Of course you do not do this out loud;
Otherwise,
Someone would call the cops.
Still though, think about this,
This great pull in us
To connect.
Why not become the one
Who lives with a full moon in each eye
That is always saying,
With that sweet moon
Language,
What every other eye in this world
Is dying to
Hear.
by St. Thomas Aquinas
When you recognize her beauty,
the eye applauds, the heart stands in an ovation,
and the tongue when she is near
is on its best behavior,
it speaks more like light.
What does light talk about?
I asked a plant that once,
It said, “I am not sure,
but it makes me
grow.”
Look my way and say:
Oh, my – how few
are her jewels!
God says,
And how rich
her Spirit?
lexpress 