una guía

I guess this is where we sit
smooth caffeine man riding waves in stomach caverns
tapping frantically away - plastic instruments
etching photons (or whatever) into word bombs
this is when we behave like particles:
stop - shake well,
"separation is natural"
the less we talk, the more we write (right?)
I am a sitting, swimming duck.
complacent and smiling
furrowed brows underneath brown skin
hardened carefully by salt and tears
Are we ever fighters by choice?
Who knows for what any of this is?
fluorescents are sometimes
like butterfly wings fluttering
in sunbeams drenched golden bright painful
streaming, constantly streaming
thank you for making it known,
when my toe dips water-wrinkles
you see them on the other side!
I am here! I am here!
waving from the other shore
reeds leaning toward that celestial thing
we cannot conjugate 'ojála' or something
something makes...
we are always getting..
more ambiguous

???

yawning - i'm wide awake, it's morning

I cannot wait for that open stretch of sky
hanging heavy, hanging bright
buildings tall scraping clouds
endless hills rolling down
my mountainous home
To curl up in an overstuffed forest,
listening to the car-sounds crackle
while city lights twinkle merrily
I am home-healthy -
drinking rainwater slipping down windowpanes
loud open-mic close-mic checking
bustling footsteps soundless on wet pavement hardly
waiting, hardly alone
always the singular, it, am, I
I cannot wait for that open stretch of sky
soaring hand-planes out car windows
rap music rap lyrics wrapped candy bars
dribbled concrete littered happy
jungled, hyper caffeinated
red lights and late nights
I cannot wait, I cannot wait, I cannot wait.

But part of me stays here, with you
with our eye-conversations and night-games,
staying in flannel, laughing hazelnut by the spoonful
entertaining footwear and felines,
(and footwear and felines, and footwear and felines)
I stay here with you
foreign films and guitars, strumming, humming
dancing spaces apart held together
by arm-wings and closed lids
humming
I stay here with you
sun-warmed hearts, books in tow
love-language heard through the stars
bodies in grass, elbows dirty
smudged faces sighing smiling
I am always losing gaining time
staying still moving forward
laughing quietly at the night -

I cannot wait, but I will stay
and we will leave,
"this too, shall pass."

sleep, don't weep

Strange title for this post, seeing as I have yet to sleep for more than five hours in one night this week. Being this tired has done several things to me: 1)drastically worsen my communication skills, particularly in the English language, 2)incite sporadic, furious rants about absolutely NOTHING, 3)allowed me to feel estranged from the world every now and then. For example, right now I can hear laundry-toilet water running through the pipes above and around me. I can hear the murmur of the ventilation system purring in the background of this basement. I can feel a small tendon located underneath my thumb, probably connecting it with my wrist — it is sore and afraid to move quickly. I can smell bonfire smoke on my clothes from several nights ago, despite my recent clothing-washing and three additional sheets of fabric softener, the flame-smell has woven its way into the fabric of my favorite college sweatshirt... I'm not really complaining. One of the rings on my hand, the one my mom gave me, is turned, palm-side. The tiny design-less band of metal that now faces me is plain and mocking. I have three very definite tan lines on my fingers. Look at my old skin. Look how it pales in comparison to the new me.

....years of twisting and turning all to become unfurled and still