I will argue with you.
We will shout, scream, take
water, breathe, shake, wail, snot, cry
and go again a second time.
And we will be so alive
because we will have tried.
On My ShoulderIf they need me
they'll find me
in love with you
finding your hair on
my shoulder at work or
hearing your voice
in the corridor
If you need me
you'll find me
you know I'm just waiting
for you to be home
in love with me
reading my poems
and listening to my bad jokes
What more could we ask for
EdgeWhen you open your door
it’s like we’re already on your balcony,
My body stammers like we’re
Hanging off the edge,
Like crumbling concrete is
all that holds us up.
But you’re just silent like sunlight
and sipping on skyline,
Calm as cars rolling round the summer of the city,
And your hair is glowing with the sweetness
of half past three
and I’m only shaken with the feeling
of how much you love me
and only feeling hopeless
trying to brave telling you
- just as often as I feel it -
just how much that I love you
but I just know that you can tell
in the moments that we meet or
on the quiet of the balcony or
when I mumble in my sleep
and I know that I still panic
with a fear like falling fast
but when you kiss me day or night
the fear falls to the past.
WalksWe walk down the river
in the cold in the dark
with a quiet
spark in our step and a
wandering in our eyes,
Skies overcast we're throwing looks
at each other,
And I'm beside myself with feelings when you
sniff the air or breathe deep in the lift,
I'm home away from home
the moment we kiss,
And the second that you're gone
is the minute that you're missed.
FathomIf I could fathom your thoughts,
Sway the mood,
Ride a crest the best half-step
closer I've taken in awhile,
Roll the ripples into waves
of misbehaving tonight, then
seagull witnesses would whistle
under wonderful moonlight.
MeanderYou shoot a look back at me, and
my thoughts meander round
The way your moulded shoulders
slow roll, all low
slung, swung confident
as you can manage,
Your hiding hands trembling like
you feel you've lost your way,
And the quiet in your eyes
of the things you dare not say.
Strangers on TrainsThe train is a cradle,
The engine a lullaby,
The people inside unlikely dreams
in beams of sun
that come and go, and
the squeal of brakes, released
Poem for youYou have a voice
like slipping out of the driveway
late at night,
And hands tiny like twisting the key in the lock
smooth and slow
There's a a surf-roll wave of change in the room
When you pull a smile, it is like
watching the tide slide out
and the sun fall down,
I can hear only our breathing
and I'm shaken but bold
I see nothing but us as we're getting old.
Nike of SamothraceLike in old Greek stories
I can see Victory hanging
one winged over us,
Battered and broken and
along the way
she lost her head
But she's there all the same,
Standing still with robes in full motion
and flowing like the moonlight moves over
cars slipping out of town,
Gliding legs, marble smooth
and not making a sound,
And cold and cracked the Angel
withstands unsteady ground.
Some NightsI still whirl the circles
some nights, and spin
fired rings round Tartarus,
See suffering giants of men
Tears frozen to hot faces,
Pole-axed by paradox
and shuddering many levels lower
than the Hindu mountain make-believe
I'd promised myself we could achieve.
I'm still wreathed in you
some nights, and feel
the peppered smoke around my head,
See myself tiny
in the little hammock-curve of shoulders
watching the flicker of thoughts across
your gentle face,
This was once the way
I could escape that place.
And then comes the morning
and I am born again
and in me it began
and in me it ends.
Your parents are artistsI've been looking for the best artist in the world, someone to help me express what you make me feel...
But my life goes like always, you know, covered of darkness and without going through something to break the monotony.
The sky color reminds me of her eyes, her deep sad eyes, her long and sensuous fingers, her warm tongue of exquisite flavor, her tenderness masquerading as loneliness and melancholy...
It becomes a great joy when falling on your psychotic world, when sink into your hugs and kisses, it becomes an immense joy.
In this way, loneliness, despair and hate lead you to madness.
A man devastated by the tragedy, that feels empty inside, disbelieved and immune to pain.
The hate blurs the feelings, annihilates the reasoning...
I sigh deeply, because I also I become a victim of your beautiful curse.
And in the sweet mornings of the world, your gaze is lost on the path that leads to my death.
That is why I walk with my head down, because that beauty is compared with you, and becau
To Its Beacon Beamingthere is a music
to the way you
say my name
that breathes weight
and value into it
a timing that winds
will and magic
into my clock
and makes me
want to breathe
and i don't know
if it's how you
say it, how i hear it
or maybe some
just gets fixed
to its beacon
the jagged slip
and break of sea
but we're more
than two bodies
a bed, or dropped
we're the imprint
and its movement
we are evolution
a selective physics
in earth's own dreams
has mapped our lives
each into the other's
we'd have met and fallen
in any timeline
and for any one
of a million reasons
but never, ever, by chance
note 68i've a talent in
turning men into gods.
i sow their voices
into commandments and
their breaths into
how he gives me life.
how he takes it away.
Silver Sea of DestinySilver Sea of Destiny 1/26/15
So I wished to take her away from those golden fields.
And bring her to the silver sea of destiny.
Would she let me comfort her?
Would she allow me to dry her tears?
She reluctantly agreed to my heartfelt plea.
And I whisked her away hoping to keep her pain at bay.
We arrived on the shore and the silver moon was smiling.
I knew deep down this would not be easy.
But nothing worthwhile ever is.
I embraced her tightly for I had no words.
Her will was broken and her golden hair was in shambles.
How could I fix what the world had done?
How could I erase the damage incurred?
So we sat on the beach and watched the ocean.
And we talked of the past and the hurt that transpired.
I held her hand and prayed for relief.
She opened up and the floodgates appeared.
I took my chance and showed my heart.
I could not stand by and watch her suffer,
I knew this place healed many before.
Would it be enough to be her cure?
The rising sun was ever closer.
I listened intentl
Un tesoro escondidoManuel estaba tranquilamente recostado en el sillón cuando la entrada se abrió de golpe, haciendo que se parase de un brinco y viera al argentino con una tremenda sonrisa en la cara y respirando agitado.
-¡Che, te tengo un juego!
Y así empezó su “calvario”.
Al chileno no le desagradaba su vecino, simplemente lo detestaba sutilmente y lo escondía en aquellas invitaciones para ver el partido juntos, donde casi siempre terminaba él perdiendo. Pero a pesar de eso lo hacía porque, como vecinos, Manuel sentía que en algo debían compartir, ya que en una cita, en un spa o incluso en una cama (invitaciones de Martín) él jamás aceptaría.
-¿No estaí grandecito?
-Pibito, es un juego regroso como yo, vite. Te cuento.
-Pero no vei que estoy ocupa'o.
Martín dio un vistazo por aquella habitación donde la tele estaba apagada y solo veía a un chileno recostado en lo largo del sillón.
Con un bu
CosquillaCuando Martín terminaba de hacer su mate, escuchó el llamado torpe a su puerta y reconoció que era el chileno.
En esos momentos deseaba descansar viendo un partido, por lo que fue a atender la entrada de malas ganas, mas, apenas abrió la puerta, aquella sonrisa del menor le cambió la faceta.
-Hola po, tanto tiempo – le saludó, ingresando a la casa sin el permiso del otro.
-Pero si acabo de ir a dejarte a tu casa, pibe.
-Puta, te dije “anda a dejarme a mi casa y luego yo a la tuya”. Igual te me perdiste pero vine, yo soy de palabra.
-Boludo, ¿qué quieres?
Manuel tomó asiento y encendió la tele, buscando el canal donde se transmitía su novela favorita.
-Che, para – Martín se acercó al interruptor de la tele y lo apagó -. ¿A qué venis?
-A dejarte po.
-Pues ya estoy en mi casa...
-¿Me estai echando?
El argentino odiaba ser poco caballero a la hora de recibir visita, pero en ese mome