There are instances of half-sleep,
whispers that bite in the last word
before trailing off into a sound of
peace; mourning for those few
moments that slip into your heart
with the reality of tenderness.
I long for the stirrings of indication,
the ones that make clear water
glisten with traces of silver in an
endless shout of bellowing and anguish;
not a curse, nor of words used and spoken,
but of actions selected and brought back
from a distance, the day after tomorrow.
It’s that gentle...
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The water taxi docks on the pier in New York.
We look around into the tourist faces, grateful
at not needing a cultural passport. One thing
learned from being native, is that the pursuit of
happiness occurs in variety, in distinction, that
makes our hearts flutter with vibrant colors.
I have secured my visa from the freedom of
love you have given me, without conditions,
or restraints, without hurtful words, or apathetic
actions. Before I ask your opinion, I know the
answer, because I know the...
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For my daughter, Maggie
When she was my baby in curls,
a single stroke of her hand examined
my face, with smiles, spit ups and
ugh-ugh sounds, almost in the same
breath.
My ear has retreated into the murmurs
of childhood where painting a pattern of
birds and mythical bunnies becomes an
adventure. None of the colors match the
brush of skin against cheek.
“I am the Queen,” she says. “The Queen
of the forest!”
“No, not the Queen!” I say.
This provokes a round of...
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I thought about incense burned
under banana trees, the way
you may have worn your shirttail
out, a childhood rebellion carried
into adulthood, the special way
you would have held my hand after
the jade Buddha’s head that meant
so much to me fell and broke among
wilting lotuses.
From far away I’ve constructed
thoughts of a younger us in an exotic
location, drinking aphrodisiac wine,
our souls quivering naked under
embodied passions, our faces revealing
the concealed charms of moonlight...
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Fairies dance to tunes in lower frequencies,
sounds that generate natural tones between
the output of thought and sensory sunlight,
the kinaesthetic component to multidimensional
messages that tend to the gardens of my mind,
eliminating the depths of despair underlying
the emotional.
The midsummer night holds heart’s secrets,
touched and kindled by both fear and anticipation.
I seek courage to keep the flame of life burning,
to breathe in the essence of you, making our love
the provision for...
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The blue, stained-glass windows dimmed the moon, making an eerie cross-pattern on the floor. From nods to winks, the faithful came to pay their respects, obeying the call, among lavish saints painted on emblazoned glass, a stintless attempt at glorifying the Lord. My mother responded in kind to their cares, griefs and guile but I found no burning faith among the enkindled crowd or the votive candles. The dark casket that held my father reflected a solitary light that seemed to dangle in...
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Beauty is all around you. All you have to do is, turn around.
A Tribute To All Writers And To Those Who Inspire Them.
So, why did you become a writer?
I was five years old when I first invoked the Moon Goddess. I wasn’t a High Priestess, and Wicca was a foreign word to me. I was just a kid, taking a midnight stroll around the neighborhood with my mother.
We did that often when my father was home, screaming out in pain, and waiting for the Nyquil to take effect. Back then, the doctors sent...
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A loving tribute to Alicia Alonso
The dawn was just breaking in the sky when the parade reached the Ballet Nacional de Cuba. The austerity of the place hit me like a cold wind. It was majestic, clean and in perfect order, but on it was the zeal of the revolution. I studied in that hall, with its lofty vaulted roof and its panelled walls, when it was Havana’s Gran Teatro, under choreographer and prima ballerina Alicia Alonso. She was an impressive looking woman with pale complexion, dark...
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