Recuerdos

Viejos recuerdos

enterrados en un cajón amarillento.

Viejos recuerdos

de caminos desandados

de espinas que una vez nos coronaron

y carcajadas mudas.

Viejos recuerdos

que volaron

como cuervos en invierno

recuerdos que al expirar

enterramos en el cajón

sin confesar sus pecados.

Viejos recuerdos

con los que un día tropezamos

en cualquier esquina de la ciudad

para encontrar

que los recuerdos no envejecen

y en cambio, tienen vida eterna.

GENERATION OF LOVE

This morning

as I look at my generation in agony

I chose freedom to wealth

a good poem to celebrity

and pure sheer to beauty.

I chose to stay an extra hour

tangled to my loved one in bed

to the morning workout

and instead of tucking in the children early

to give them structure

I chose to stay and hour late

to give them love.

THE SON OF GOD

Last Monday

while standing on Religious street

I saw the birth of a poem

and suddenly

realized that verses

like humans

have a live of their own.

They are borne,

they grow

develop full potentials

struggle along with many other humans

learn from our common experiences

and any day

the poem dies forgotten in a drawer

‘til a mysterious god

either collets their souls forever

or resurrect them

at the dawn of the third day.

THE STORIES THAT I DID NOT TELL

I always told my girlfriends

believe half of my stories

or maybe less.

Now with the pass of time

I found myself being that citizen

half human

and half hero

through the stories

narrated by my children.

AFTER TWO YEARS, MADNESS

Reading the news

I found that scientists discovered

that in married

love only last two years

and now

while I run into ten years to your side

I ask myself what is that

that I’ve been feeling

in these eight extra years.

What am I doing lying to your side

What is going on with this hallucinating breath

that I share with you

Why am I touching that body

Looking through your curves

Your too familiar wrinkles

and falling for those celestial blemishes.

What is happening

when I look into your closed eyes

and kiss your barely open lips

while saying silent love words

Scientists are all wrong

and God is real

or

I’m into a brand new sort of madness.

SAINT CHARLES ST.

It is delightful seeing the young people jogging

down the street car’s tracks

of Saint Charles street.

The beautiful bodies pouring sweat

now beaten by the sun

or later bounced around by the wind.

Different shapes

colors and sizes

but always the same firm strokes

pounding on the ground.

I look at them from the side way

helpless

tired

and almost intoxicated

only fantasizing

that today they will beat

the Saint Charles street car again

on their endless run to eternity.

FOREVER

Tonight

I will steal some of your minutes

and we

together

won’t forget the written lines

in millions of years to come.

TEXTING VALENTINA

Hello Valentina!

Did I already tell you that I love you 😉

c u 2night at dinner time 🙂

AS I FOLLOW YOUR STEPS

As I follow your steps leaving the kitchen

from the delicate toes

to the firm base of the ankle

I recall the Universe of routes that

brought me here.

Suddenly, your nakedness

waiting by the stairway

with a cup of wine

resting peacefully against the glorious tights

urged the duty and the pay to come.

THE SUMMER IS GONE

The summer is gone

with its mesmerizing shining sun

sudden hurricanes

bodies storming on the streets

and the students

sunbathing at the faculty courtyard.