constant

Flowers wither away.

Paper yellows with age.

Ink fades over time.

Our bodies wither away.

Our hearing lessens with age.

Eyesight fades over time.
Is there any constant?

Yes. Before. Now. Later. Forever.

My hands may be crippled and wrinkled, but still outstretched to you and yours.

You might have to speak up, but the sound of you saying my name still makes me giggle like a school girl.

Come closer and let me look into your beautiful eyes, the eyes that have never changed for as long as I have known you.

Now kiss me as I wrap my arms around your neck.

See, some things never change. Some things are constant.

if I were only as brilliant as William Carlos Williams

I ran after you

threw 4 dollars

into the rose bushes

waiting to see if you came back

I went back outside

to pick them up gently

yet, I pricked my finger

on one beautiful bloom

one thorn

one single blood drop

rolling down my finger

moments later

one single tear drop

rolling down my cheek

the tooth fairy

when I was about 13 or 14

my mom tricked the tooth fairy

into giving her all of my baby teeth

... always having the power of persuasion

I am still not sure how she performed such a difficult feat

she keeps them in a jewelry box

in there are some old coins from Vietnam and Korea

antique turquoise and sterling silver rings from Indian reservations

and a Ziploc bag full of my teeth

some of them still have the dental floss wrapped around them

you could tell which ones brought a little bit more coin from the fairy than others

because the roots are still attached, but the most interesting part

is each and every single one is in the box

in their tiny white and dried blooded innocence

even though, I do not have any children of my own, I do not find this to be strange

in fact, I have plans for these teeth that first taught me to chew and bite

40 years from now when I am a very elderly woman

and my mother passes away peacefully in her sleep

with perfectly painted toe-nails with me right next to her side

I am going to remember these teeth

and when I carry out her wishes and put her cremated ashes

in something quirky like a bamboo urn from Tibet

I will take that Ziploc bag out of my pocket and open it with my arthritic fingers

and slowly pour those teeth in that urn and smile

because I know that in short time someone will carry out my last wishes

and I will join her and be reunited my old baby teeth once again

I bet that old tooth fairy will shake her head and realize

that she didn’t know who she was messing with all those years ago

when she made a deal with a petite stubborn red-headed woman

paper doll

your hands control my perfectly

smooth and perforated little world

my words are your words

my thoughts are your thoughts

I go where you go and no-one else ever has to know

if I have been a good girl

you surprise me with a fashionable hat or dress,

whisper sweet nothings, or even promises of a shiny new tomorrow

but if you suddenly change your mind,

our love can quickly come to a standstill

you see I am merely a commodity, a fantasy,

something to pass the time

cut my hair, poke holes in my eyes,

toss me aside or set my whole body ablaze

for I am just a paper doll

and my dear you are holding

a pair of scissors in one hand

and a lighter in the other

literary soliloquy

it used to be my favorite place on Earth,

until recently.

I could spend hours

running my fingers across

the spines of the works

of Blake, Dickinson, Keats, Whitman.

sitting Indian style with the

words of Atwood in my lap

"I would like to be the air

that inhabits you for a moment

only. I would like to be that unnoticed

& that necessary."

laying in the fetal position

nestled with Neruda's very soul

put on paper held in my fingertips

"I love you as certain dark things

are to be loved, in secret,

between, the shadow and the soul."

Plath and I were blood sisters.

Kerouac and I, lovers in a former life.

yet, now it just brings me great sorrow,

so I stand at the edge remembering;

goodbye poetry section of Barnes and Noble.

I cannot bring myself to take a single step,

closer to the past and what might have been.

instead, I drink the ink from this pen,

as I watch the magic of this sacred place dwindle

and I download everything I need to my Kindle.

hAiKu

stubborn hearts rebelled;

sorrowful thoughts beheld;

memories are dwelled.

snake

 my skin is dry and peeling

perhaps I am shedding like a snake

to turn into something

or someone else

yet maybe I am just casting off

my previous idiosyncrasies

I do not pretend to be beautiful,

or particularly interesting,

or intriguing

I know that I am strange,

most likely lacking in common sense,

with an abundance of knowledge from books,

but not from actually living

the smallest gestures often make my day,

the things that others do not take the time to notice

beauty is in the most obscure places, if we could just unplug

long enough to actually look around

I am often told that I remind someone of someone else

either I have multiple doppelgangers

or my face is simple and not quite

enough to remember or entirely forget

I am a snake

what you see today might

look entirely different tomorrow

unless you think you have the

nerve to get under my skin

as I hiss and shake my little tail

31

31 years old (not young) is how I shall phrase it

because with age comes experience

and with experience comes wisdom

I would not trade in the last ten years

for the fleeting feeling of youth

I am a woman now

and yes that includes all the

complexities and secrets

that womanhood entails

While I long to see places exotic and far away,

I am not in denial and can accept that these

journeys and adventures are likely beyond me,

somewhere in a dream,

lost in a distant thought

I just wish to find my voice again,

feel a soft breeze on my face,

never forget the smell of an old book

perhaps run through the woods,

bare-footed, howling at the moon

any thing and every little spark that reminds me

that while I am 31 years old,

I am still here,

ready to absorb all of which life has to offer

longing to feel everything,

pain, pleasure, happiness, sadness,

pride, courage, anger, even helplessness

the soon exchanging of rings,

the pitter patter of little feet,

followed by handing over car keys and

waving goodbye as they too grow up

my hair slowly showing gray and white strands

wrinkles around my eyes,

the deep-thought line in my forehead that I already have,

loosing my sight and hearing,

rocking in a chair with my sweetie on the front porch

of a home that will carry on in our family for generations

long after we are gone

I am not afraid to die.

It is not living that terrifies me so.



untitled

chartreuse, cerulean, coral, crimson
the architectural ornaments of your mind,
neatly preserved in corked cruets,
unconsciously arranged and as complex,
as the entanglements in which surround them

gossamer gates barricade the opaque corner,
housing these precious jewels behind
elaborate locks with infinite keys and combinations

centered among the assortment of color
is a looming hourglass
halcyon, autonomous

sand trinkles and halts,
filling the bulb
the chance to invert,
to begin again,
is just out of my reach

Pablo Neruda's Sonnet XVII (one of my favorites)

Pablo Neruda

(Sonnet XVII)

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz

or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:

I love you as certain dark things are loved,

secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries

hidden within itself the light of those flowers,

and thanks to your love, darkly in my body

lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,

I love you simply, without problems or pride:

I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,

so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,

so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

(Soneto XVII)

No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio

o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:

te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,

secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.

Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva

dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,

y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo

el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.

Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,

te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:

así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,

sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,

tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,

tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.

~the back of my mind~ ( a trimeric)

Sometimes I see your face

in the back of my mind

with such a modest smile,

reminiscent of days past.

In the back of my mind

your presence lingers,

eluding infinite escape.

With such a modest smile,

I remember everything

In the curve of your lips.

Reminiscent of days past,

yet as far away

as another time and place.

Crazy Gurl's Zeal Song (my personal take on Plath's Mad Girl's Love Song)

I am sorry I have never let it be said;

you fit me like a missing puzzle piece.

(Violin music plays softly inside my head.)

I lay before you like velvety butter on bread;

the longing goes on and on and shall never cease.

I am sorry I have never let it be said.

Intoxicating, but still as sweet as a rose so red:

I give myself to you like Aphrodite of ancient Greece.

(Violin music plays softly inside my head.)

Please swiftly lift me up and carry me off to bed;

with every step the depth of my desire will increase.

I am sorry I have never let it be said.

The intensity in your eyes is better than any passage I’ve read;

your delicate skin warms me like silky fleece.

(Violin music plays softly inside my head.)

Maybe it is best if I just show you instead;

the truth is bound to appear in my inhibition’s release.

I am sorry I have never let it be said

(Violin music plays softly inside my head.)

Dylan

I nicked my knee shaving in the bath

While listening to Bob Dylan

So I decided to let out a little laugh

And I accidentally cut myself again

I sang along loudly while all alone

My voice echoed through the steamy air

Today I’m like a rolling stone

With sweat and bubbles in my unkempt hair

solace

I always have words just below the surface, too afraid to make their presence known. It didn’t used to be this way. Before, they would rush over me, ready to express themselves without hesitation, without reserve, unaware of their power or the consequences of their actions. Now I do not know how to quiet them without spilling myself entirely onto paper, so I hold on to my pen with a firm grip, not allowing their freedom. I hold my words prisoner, locked up tight somewhere far-away in the darkness. Some days they scream loudly and their cries are crystal clear, but on nights like tonight, they are so faint, barely confused whimpers within the walls of my mind. Yet, I do not feel entirely in control of them either, but merely a fellow captive convicted to a lifetime of solitude, trying to squeeze my way into their cell, behind the rows of letters that form nothing. They whisper to me when I sleep. They tell me that I can free myself by letting them go. Their independence requires me to look deep within. Instead, I turn my head and cover my eyes. Maybe they are not my hostages; maybe I am theirs. Somewhere along the line, their fate and mine became intertwined. They wrap around me, squeezing me from the inside. I fight back. I grab them, pushing back violently, trying to breathe without suffocating. The curve of every letter hugs my body so tightly that my fingers ache attempting to pry them off. I know they just want to be free of the restraints that bind them, as do I. Behind the bars of all the sentences never written, we are one and the same. I yearn to look to them for strength and they need to find solace in the ink from my pen. Currently, we are at a stand-still, sucking the force from each other like parasitic unspoken exclamations. So I sit here cowardly gazing at the tip of my pen, too frightened to pick it up because I know that once I give in, words will flow like blood. Crisp white pages will turn crimson before my very eyes and ink will swirl, taking on a life of its own. There will be no peace tonight, only this feeble attempt to dance around the truth, this wasted space of meaningless murmur.

burn

as the light from this candle flickers

I gaze at it in wonder and amazement

I want to touch it

run my fingers across it

even if it burns me

even if it hurts

the smoke quickly fades

as it leaves the warmth of the flame

often I feel the same

wishing I could reverse myself

and crash into you

somehow someway

I would walk away

unharmed in knowing that even

for the briefest moment in time

that you surround me

lighting up my darkness

igniting every single strand of hair

every tender spot of flesh

I can withstand the heat

I will not turn to ash

so burn me

for I cannot take this shiver deep within

I ache for you

for the fire that escapes your lips

every time you utter my name

random thoughts

In the last week, I have moved into my own place and turned 30.  Now, I feel I must take a few moments to reflect.  Life is strange and it is only when everything is quiet that I can slow my mind enough to ponder the paths that lie ahead as well as the roads that I have taken that have brought me here.

Contentment is often fleeting for me, but lately its presence has lingered much longer than its usual alotted time.  While I still think too much and rack my brain constantly about anything and everything, I have also taken the time to appreciate those closest to my heart as well as the little things that can easily be taken for granted, like laughing.  It is something that I absolutely adore whether it is my own or the chuckle of another.  There is nothing like a good laugh, especially when it is a shared one.  It is something that I hope to continue doing as often as possible.

In the last year, I have completed half of my graduate degree, moved a couple of times, started, stopped, and didn't get jobs, opened myself up, closed myself down, stumbled upon a happy medium and found myself surprised on many occasions which is well...surprising.  Perhaps, I am finally coming into my own.  I have always lived for others because giving pieces of myself away is what I do best.  Yet, I find myself stronger today than I was yesterday.    Ernest Hemingway said "the world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places."  I've been broken, but I do not give up. 

For the first time in a long time, I look forward to what the future has in store for me.  I wouldn't call myself an optimist just yet, but I am starting this new chapter a bit less jaded than I was a year ago.  Or maybe I woke up this morning with newfound wisdom.  We'll see...

~pisces~

constantly in chaos

I swim in opposite directions

part of me cannot help but

fight the strong current

staying just below

afraid of what I'll find at the surface

shallow waters are no longer

enough to sustain me

so I dive down deep

taking giant breaths

my tail slashes at my sides

I know not how to slow down

so I yearn for the bottom

desperately seeking a means to an end

others glide by me but I move too quickly

passing by them briskly

without a real chance of acknowledgement

yet another part of me

longs to brush my scales against yours

intertwining our tails in unison

sharing the air that fills your lungs

as we dart madly for the top

so the moon can glisten on our skin

like flawless diamonds

before the fear sets in

before I frantically submerse

before you can really see me

in the impending rise of the sun

for in the imposing light

all of my flaws are revealed

so quick to plunge back into the depths

and start the endless cycle

all over again

round and round

you are

like

the sun

I cannot

help

but move

near you

until

the heat that

radiates off

your skin

warms me

and

when

I finally

blanket you

the chill

within me

rapidly

increases in

temperature

bubbling

to the

surface

as

I exhale

before

breathing in

the flare

glowing

between

your mouth

and mine

round

and

round

I go

to feel

once

more

unravel me

the coils that bind

are woven

tightly and intricately

sometimes I cannot

even reach myself

yet you know how

to unravel me

desperate to open up

for you to inhabit me

fill me with everything

that is you

take me away

from the trepidation

let your strength

wash over me

inside me

as I soak up

every drop

savoring every

single second

I am free

but I long

to be

fearless

anathema

anathema

beautiful bane

abiding, bewitching, agonizing

surrender my mindless sentiment

beloved