Friday, September 20, 2013

The Whole Kit and Caboodle

Take it,
Take what is yours.
Take the blood i owe.
Take it in small drops
or in buckets red and rusted.

Take-

And when you're done,
when the stone is dry-
take some more.

Take the boring Mondays.
Take the socks on the floor.
Take the last beer.

Take them too.

Take the souvenir cups.
Take the lonesome nights.
Take the dull razor.

Take everything, 
from the VHS tapes
to the kitchen sink-
(it's still dirty).

Take back the college education
worth thousand of dollars-
 repossess it.
 we'll call it even.
(I am not doing much with it anyways)

Take the last shred of me
that dreams.

Take it all,
The whole kit and caboodle.


 13'

Thursday, September 19, 2013

the wall

Women
claim the chairs
next to them with their
purses-

Little walls.
Little boarders.
keeping you away.

saving a seat
perhaps for no one
perhaps for a ghost
or
perhaps
the for the one that got away all those years ago.
(Maybe she still thinks he might come back)

Either way, the
seat is taken.

Occupied 
And you will either have to find another
Seat
Or 
Stand
(With your right hand 
over your heart)

For
They've claimed the chair
for Themselves
God
and
Country

13'


Relief effort

Yes, it looks like it might rain-
and
I agree this summer heat is killing me too-
and
Boy,
it "is" pretty windy out there.

I have had enough talk
about the
weather.

Enough talk about the world that I can not
control,
as the hand of God fiddles with the
thermostat-

and if not the weather
then
you talk
about
sports
the news
gossip-
anything to kill the
silence.-

is the silence so bad?
or
is it worse to share what is really
going on.

There is a light
as bright as any sun
in the soul of every man
and woman-
but it can also
rain-
hail-
floods of joy, as well as sorrow.

I want to know what storm brews in you.-
What relief can I offer you?

Sunday, September 08, 2013

La Maestra

A veces,
cuando uno es pobre
las únicas
riquezas
que tenemos
son nuestros sueños.

Yo he soñado de ti-
Maestra.

La oscuridad
esconde mi pobreza.

En la oscuridad,
la memoria de
tu rostro
brilla
como la luna
dentro de mí.

En mis sueños
conozco tu amor.

Pero son sólo sueños
de un pobre.

Durante el día
miro a la maestra
caminar por la escuela.

A veces me mira
y sonria,
pero la
luz del dia
expone mi pobreza-
expuesto mi vergüenza.

Una vez ella me
había ofrecido tomar un
café y ayuda me
convertir en un maestro.

Era mi oportunidad
en la luz del día.

Pero yo vivo en los
sueños de la oscuridad.

No puedo perder
a alguien
que nunca era mío.

Con el tiempo ella
se fue,
y los sueños se fueron,

y en la oscuridad no tenía nada
más que
oscuridad

“Desperte-
desperte
de los sueños-
y vive en la luz.”

fue la última
lección
que me enseñó
La Maestra


12'/13'

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