22.9.17

i speak once of steeping feet in the seven seas
of illuminating them there to oceanic
to create sheets of white luminous
so that their bodies will become edible
submerged in effervescent brilliance
make it so and skin turns a new
softening as you seep slowly in
as cells remember i forgive
so that we now immerse ourselves
apathy has nowhere else to sit
it will never requiem he repeats
though he still doesnt know
i often hear the same declaration
reversing in anothers simplicity
to luminescence my light...mirrored
as always breathing in his glare
i find my love transitioning clouds
waist deep in his inane
i vanish across blue fields
meandering the world
straying on the limniads edge
returning some times in time
for a door aching wide in the sky
and the moon setting free
played perfectly
in the neighbours tree
suddenly remembering
just how it all could be

8.9.17

My father walked me down to las posadas one calm winter night.
The fog was thick
And unable to see the stars
I quietly followed in.
Out of the duskiness
Appeared the familar
White lace shoulders and
Flickering lights.
Hands cusped in between ribs
Black hair settled on their backs
Tightly woven in a knot.
I remember the connection to our mother
Was stronger there than anywhere I had ever felt.
La Nuestra Senoras eyes gazed deeply around us
Against the dark nights
Their soft smiles
Gracious and enchanting
Hearty hearts of steel
I knew these people as
Warm
Willing
Weathered
By the storms of being dissipated
Blown into the winds of terror
A false divergence that made them illuminate ablaze
In contrast to the conservation of whiteness.

My grandmothers neighbor would come by
with a bag of tamales every so often.
Mass was held in the backyard
And I'd sit under the orange tree so that I could hear them speak in languages formed out of feelings
Sometimes they'd weep
Hold each others hands
in the lap of the other
Head draped on the families shoulder
There was a willingness
to carry the others heart
down to the river
and let it go.
Knowing that the same love
will always be carried within.
Even when we have lost sight of one another.

Snake skin and oiled hands
Chicano. Dark lips.
Chipped paint.
Earth scent ingrained.
Rough around the eyes
I still see her in each and every
Holy One I continue by.

Ella siempre sera mi luz en la oscuridad.

HS

1.9.17

I once heard a story of a girl who found her heart was placed so far from where she had left it. It seemed as though it had been picked up and carried to the farthest reaches of this earth where no one not just anyone would ever come across it. Here she was called following the eyes of someone elses light. Someone she could not reach. And here she found her heart in the hands of an undeniable belief.