Tuesday, April 2, 2019

The She-Butterfly

As if suspend by air
The she-butterfly 
Opened her winds,
In her blue colors
Light projected
Every pixel of her being
In every motionless move.

Wrap around a poll
Seamlessly her wits 
mixed with colors,
Nature’s palate 
Carefully teased out
Her magnificence.

The Morpho-she butterfly 
Dances majestically
without hesitation,
Her skin pronounces 
The ritual,
The dance, 
The universe. 
I must defend 
My consciousness 
Against her presence
Her voluptuousness,
Her eyes,
Her lips,
Her being;

It brings out
The unreasonable,
Desiring a boundless
Of kisses,
Of sights, 
Of round pronunciations;

To drown me, 
Confuse me,
And eventually 
Kill me:

What a sweet 

Tuesday, March 5, 2019

Shadowed memories

Drowned  memories 
Within old ones
And new ones to come 

Reminders of who I was
Who I am
And who would I be

The shadows that guide
My past, 
And future 
Are here

To twist
My rationale 
Into new shadows 
And new memories.


Of places 
Physical isolation
Because it is not me;

Of ideas 
Humanistic suffering 
Because it is all of us;

Of being
Because the soul dies.

Sunday, March 3, 2019

Unexpected Night I

I can only feel
And let go,
And not let go...
The texture 
And whispers
Of forbidden fruits,
Lingering feelings
Into the night
In my skin. 

The soul music,
The contours of her hips,
The soft whispers,
The lips gently moving,
Tracing softly
Her desires.

Reborn again,
Capturing every second
Of her silence,
And I can let go,
And cannot let go. 

Unexpected Night II

Unexpected moments
In simple spaces
Unexpected movements 
And simple smiles 
Unexpected silence 
And simple goodbyes:

Life passes 
With unexpected twists
And we escape
With unexpected intent
Possessed by fears
With unexpected demands
Consumed by time
With unexpected realities:

I held her in my lips 
With unexpected debauchery
And imagine her demands 
With unexpected action 
And I say goodbye 
With unexpected harmony: 

Unexpected Night III

Like a river
Of infinite waters 
Overflowing moisture 
Infinitely expanding,
In an idled universe.

In the edge 
Of its flow I see you, 
Mouthing desire 
Swimming confused 
Feeling it all 
Taking little. 

I now know
How to preserve,
Retain, transcend
To an inner space 
valuable, inmutable,


Between her and I
In the shadows of being
With planets confusing 
The winged dreams;

Between reality and ideal
Into her hair shadows
With undefined tears
Rolling back internally;

Between unspoken fears
In the shadow of truth
With sweet chaos 
Percolating existence;

Between decisions and indecisions
Her curious eyes are missed
And I see her contours
In my mind's shadow;

Between life and being
She moves away 
And I reaffirm her
In my dreams and reality. 

Sunday, March 26, 2017

Simple, yet complicated

Simple, yet complicated:

Ideas, coffee,
talks of poetry
hair, eyes, lips,
and stories
not yet certain.

Refusing to be defined,
accepting, rejecting,
yet delighting
glances, ideas
and sensual chats.

Today I saw her,
her red lips
voluptuously desiring,
yet the mind

Moral trepidations
between her
and her mind,
yet her skin
her womb
her lips

Simple, yet complicated.

Friday, December 2, 2016

An Old Friend

I met an old friend 
From not too long ago:

Eclectic chats
Within unimaginable
Of an artistic being
That I think I know;

Between shadows 
Of a nation,
In a leg that I 
cannot see. 

An undefined number
In her wrist,  
An inverted cross 
Crawling her forearm 

All of these and more, 
Between a green
And mustard 
There she was.

Her eyes piercing 
The light,
Her smile transcending
The atmosphere. 

Between this and that 
And a cat, 
And a walk
And more 
And nothing more. 

All suffices:
To imagine the shadow
In her back, 
That I cannot see;

The curtain,
The window,
The white alpaca 
Her skin,
And more 
And nothing more. 

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

A Raven Night

A Raven Night

What would they know?

My voice was shouting
Across the room an empty cross
To professed the crossing paths
That have awaken humanity:

The Love Song of T.S Eliot
Was drowned among the fools
That giggled and refused
To listen to its questions;

Whitman, at times, was thought
To be obscene among the puritans
And the half sleep that will wake
When sinful nouns forced their morals
And ethics to its crisis;

I sipped my wine and shouted louder
Verde que te quiero verde
While they continued numbly listening;

Then, La Casada Infiel and an intimate
Bullfight personal reflexion;
And I shouted louder and louder
Until I drowned all the noises,
The giggles, the ridiculousness;

The wine was blood
The flesh consumed
The cross erected
The fools gone.

What would they know!

The She-Butterfly

As if suspend by air The she-butterfly  Opened her winds, In her blue colors Light projected Every pixel of her being In every m...