walking backwards

searching out thin fleeting

thought, chasing rabbits down

slippery holes, grasping web

lines to piece together some

semblance of rational thought

painkillers dull the brain, making

zombies out of creative souls

who's knocking on the door

has anybody seen where all

the wasted love has gone, be

careful with sharp edges

marks of canine and cat

etched into bone marrow,

long jagged marks sit beneath

the skin, pretend you never

loved anyone else once upon

a time, blame the happily ever

after its gone sour, another

midnight hour, we were blind

lovers grasping for each other

All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2018 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

Elusive

I've collected quarters to call you.
How many will it take to reach you?
The slivered moon presses down
against the night sky. A song chased
down a hollow throat, lost. Piano
notes heard through the wall.
I have nothing left to show you.
Empty hands fill deep coat pockets.
Seams are torn Winter wind seeps in.
Knuckles chafed raw bleed thinly.
Did we forget our lesson when you
looked right through me? She never
liked questions in my poetry, red lines
across my question marks. A large white
swan in a multi-colored vest chased me
across a yard in my dream last night.
You've caught me sober. Don't drown
in your secrets. You've left snowy
footsteps across the floor. Let them
dry. A reminder that you were here once. 

All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2018 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

9:09 pm

woke up on the other side of okay.
tiny orchid on a ledge, burnt leaves
and dried roots. warm air skims in
lazy circles leaving me drowsy.
storm clouds gather in the distance.
she howls into a mic diving into a fall.
firecrackers echo in the streets.
a soul burning with wildfire
as the night sky lights up.

All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2017 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

9:09 pm

it bubbles up
presses against flesh
heads up, you'll miss it
come up to the surface
along the eyelash line
see the dewdrops
about to fall, halfway
done, need the sun
to break, call home
you've been gone
for far too long
thunder rumbles
in the distance
calling, calling
guitar strings
plucked, stroked
slides along
skreech sounds
across lei lines
where pressure
builds up, an edge
along the tooth line
can you feel it?
way down we go
the back of my throat
aches when i think
of you alone.


All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2016 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

7:31 pm

the day is hot. sunlight pinpricks my skin walking up a hill.
a warm wind sweeps down, a caress, a kiss and i've missed you
again. humming beneath my breath to alicia key's in common
song reminds me of what we had in the swing of a drum beat.
tree branches move slowly reaching outward, the sky is quiet
thin heat drying out the cavern where a heart once beat softly.


All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2016 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

9:08 pm

this week flew by. it didn't help that i came down with another migraine mid-week. stress-related. how do i know? a sty is growing in my left eye at the moment. a sure sign of stress. i'm listening to cats fighting in the backyard hissing and screeching at each other. every one seems to be stressed out lately.  i want to take cover.  hide. stick my head in sand. disappear.  yet here i am writing this missive tonight so i must be lying. we are all liars. trying to fit. square peg/round hole. trying to smooth our edges. hide our anger. trying to play nice. i'm tired tonight. fireworks are going off somewhere in the neighborhood. it poured earlier. like a lot. thunder storm rain. tornado warnings for nyc until 10 pm. if i could put my head down on my table i'm sure i'd fall asleep. i am restless. creative hunger lingers. i burned my back and it's only now starting to itch. the smell of smoke wafts thru my open window.  i got a couple of poems published in Downtown Brooklyn, Issue #25. the weekend is upon us. my apt is clean and my mug empty of tea. now to actually sit down and write...


All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2016 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

Scavengers and Saints

Puzzle pieces scattered across a table.
Who cares if we don't eat. Better to put
it together than to quell our hunger.
One look at you, my heart flutters
with a lost song. Don't call it love.
Love tastes like ashes against
my tongue. Listening to the chorus
I remember you from before.
I wish the feeling of missing you
wasn't so strong. It's an aural illusion.
The train rumbles over Manhattan bridge
the building lights we pass remind me
of lives being lived behind closed doors alone.
You travel away and I want to whisper words
in your ear tonight. Be well. Do not seek danger.
Remember me when you are alone.
Don't forget to send me a word. Just one.
Softly. And smile. It always reaches me,
fills me up to my head, makes my scalp tingle,
I feel full of you in the dark. I keep writing
to you on my skin. There are lines that connect us.
Can you read them or should I write louder?
The damage is done, you are thin-razor marks
etched onto me.  It hardly hurts. You are a muse
or a grey dove expecting seeds from my hand.
We all want answers. I've wrapped myself
around you and you've hardly noticed. Who cares,
after all, they are only feelings falling off a tree.
You will never take a bite off the fruit. You'll lose
a tooth if you dare. You cover your heart for good
measure. Don't worry I won't hurt you, much.
A woman carries purple orchids. A flower dying
on the vine in cold water. You know I'm a predator
but you don't mind being devoured. When the walls
are quiet you imagine me moaning on top of you.
How well you know me before we've even met naked.
I hold you in my mind as I walk on this cold night.
I am contracting. I want only what you are willing
to offer freely. This lonesome feeling will only last
as long as the season. When you are ready
to share your despair, remember me fondly.


All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2015 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

Hinterland

I am caught in the callous
country of language.
Borderline. Fragments.
Waking words. Clarity.
The truth is there is no truth
only a moment, a thought.
I am wasting time dancing
around the periphery
like a fairy in a pink tutu
instead of hunkering
down, sinking waist
deep into the mud.
The sky is the color
of green ash, waiting
to rip open thunder,
lightning and rain.

Stand with an open hand
while a grey mourning
dove perches on a white
fence murmuring to
the cherry blossom
tree, remembering
Spring together.

Astray

What does lost look like?

Having gone astray, missed the way
Not used to good purpose, opportunity/time/labor wasted
Preoccupied
Distracted/distraught

Notebooks piled on a desk
Deadlines locking down the day
Somehow we have lost our way
Sunlight breaking through cloud cover beckons
A clock against a white wall, the red hand tick~tocks along
There is a strangle hold

Scientists have created the coldest molecule (minus 273 Celsius)
Did it just get cold in here?

I missed you yesterday, across a span of words captured on the web
You missed me too, dead pixels, corrupt links and all.
With so much new technology we hold onto radio silence. It's the safest way to exist without you.

Scientists have created the coldest chemically induced molecule and injected it into my bloodstream. It's the safest way to exist without you.

Grumpy

It's 7:00 pm on a Wednesday evening and I am grumpy.  I've had a mild migraine for the better part of the day.  I woke up grumpy but I grumbled along as best as I could.  Then I was aggravated by the stupidity of people.  I should just let things go, not give over to every angry impulse but I didn't win out on that count. Instead I ate comfort food to stuff down my feelings.  Yes, I am quite aware of my food issues.  I haven't been sticking to my food restrictions either which may explain some of the grumpiness and overall yucky feeling. The only time I feel almost normal is when I have nothing in my system.  Being empty helps give my system a break. I may do that tomorrow. It will help. Where was I?  Oh yes, being grumpy.  So I tried writing some poetry while I was at lunch but that didn't really amount to much.  I'll include it in this entry just to share the first draft of a peom/poem. [I misspelled poem and liked the way it looked so I held onto it.]  Okay, right so moving on.  Despite the warmed weather, I'm still feeling cold. Clammy cold.  Must be the migraine.

Okay so the poem that I wrote this afternoon with just a few minor changes:

Thunder-Struck Silence at a Quarter to One

A reluctant start to this grey day
damp wind caresses skin promising
Spring sun, waking up a need/want
hunger with an open voracious mouth,
all-consuming, to be filled up to the brim
with some-thing/some-one of substance
to fill up the blank page
to fill up the darkness
to be reminded of days that held
hopeful dreams in bright neon colors.
Light reflects off the wet bricks
on a building across the street
a folded piece of paper opens
and closes, opens and closes
with each gust of air. We are
actors without a play or a part.
Metal beads scrapes across
the window pane, reflections
captures our attention, wander past
our thoughts toward higher ground
where we will not drown.  Heaven
is a sometimes promise to the weary
heart. We dare not shout into Winter's
dark. A star in the corner of a page is
a reminder to come back. We are asleep
with our eyes wide shut. I am not listening.
Need/want hunger suffocates. A life
without pain is a life without language.
Turn down the music there are people
lying. Turn down the covers, these
are the moments to despair.  Fold us
along our edges and press down tight.
                                                      -03.11.15

All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2015 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

Monday Morning

the day is cold, damp
sun light diffused
by cloud cover
thin pale lumen
reflected on ice
patches, frozen
sidewalk, crackling
footsteps beneath
a quiet dawn blooms

All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2015 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

Willie Perdomo - The Essential Hits of Shorty Bon Bon

The National Books Critics Circle announced the 2014 finalists on Jan. 19th.  Every time a book award list comes out I scan it eagerly to see who made it.  There have been years when, I will admit, there have been tinges of jealousy but not this time.  This year, a fellow writer from my writing program Willie Perdomo made it onto the list and when I saw his name I wanted to cheer out loud in my very quiet office space.  He was nominated for his book of poetry: The Essential Hits of Shorty Bon Bon (penguin books). How bloody fantastic is that?! I wanted a chance to cheer for one of our own from Long Island University Graduate Writing Program.  Here's to Willie Perdomo, a truly deserving poet.

All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2014 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

Dead Air

January light is spare, glints on
the corners of our eyes. Boots crack
icy snow with every step. A bitter
wind chafes tender spots above
cheeks leaving behind red patches.
Kisses. You buried yourself under
my skin. We are lost, a rapid decline,
a force upon us, bottomless free fall.
What is left is the sound of your breath.


All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2014 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

On Writing Too

On Friday, I read at an open mic at Le Poisson Rouge on Bleeker Street.  Usually I announce beforehand so I can get folks to come support but I wasn’t sure if I was going to get on the roster that night. I went up first which was a good thing.  We were in the gallery space beneath the music venue so while I was up it was nice and quiet.  There is something so amazing that happens when I am up there in front of a new audience and the room turns perfectly still.  I feel myself expand and reading from my work allows my wings to stretch out a bit.  Usually, I am trying hard to tamp myself and my personality down because it doesn’t fit into the culture of my day job.  So I contract in order to be able to just get the work done.  But when I’m doing my work, my writing, reading from my book of poems, I feel the power of that moment.  It radiates up through my feet, makes my legs tremble, moves up to my belly where the butterflies are aflutter, through my lungs where breath and voice connect and out comes the words in these flowing waves and I more present then at any other moment in my life.  * happy sigh * I managed to sell a book which is always a pleasure. It was a great night of eclectic writers. There was one cat called D-Bird that cracked me up with his poetry.  Funny and so well-worth the price of admission.

Then I went to see Disgraced on Saturday night.  I’ve written up a separate entry on that experience.

Then on Sunday afternoon it was Writing Group time.  My short story Clara Betta went over really well. I was honestly surprised at how well it was received…it made me blush. So now it’s time to make some final revisions, one more look see with WG and then send it out to see if some magazine will publish it.  Hmm.  So much to consider.  Where to send it?  First I’ll make the final tweaks and then see what might be a few possibilities. 

All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2014 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

Sour Kiss

Today I spent the day writing.  I'm experimenting with narrative poetry and I'm not sure how it's working yet.  I am thinking of Kristin Prevallet's essays in I, AfterLife or Dennison Smith's novel Scavenger. Neither example actually fit the term narrative poetry but it's definitely a specific kind of storytelling that I'm trying. I'd mention Walcott's Omeros or Ondaatje's The English Patient but that kind of storytelling is a league all their own.

I am just letting the words come out first.  No holds bar.  It's partly autobiographical and at time I can feel my censor sitting on my shoulder whispering..."you can't write that, then everyone will know." And I write the words anyway.  It's terribly graphic and I have a tendency to want to fix the language from it's raw state but I stop myself and tell myself to keep going. I wrote over 2,600 words with my starting point being a 300-word working poem called Sour Kiss.

I turned down an invitation to go out because I have been promising myself some quiet time to write.  I wanted to get beyond journal entries and note scraps.  I wanted to get beyond the recycled bullshit that is constantly churning in the grey matter.  I'm writing about being with the Cuban...a pivotal relationship that I had back in the late 90's. It's taken me a long time to be able to write from an honest place about that chapter  in my life but I finally feel ready to tackle it.  It's not an easy process but the mix of creative narrative with memory helps with the transitions.

It's strange to listen so closely to the echoes of my past.  I'm trying to capture moments and feelings but it still feels like I'm on the outskirts of the story.  Tomorrow I will work some more and see how far I get.  My goal is to get the words down...no revising for now.  But I've worked long enough and I need a dinner break now.  I think it's time to go get some sushi or at the very least order in.  Hmmm decisions, decisions.   A good walk in the afternoon rain sounds about right.  

Peace,
L~


All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2014 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

Strike a Balance

I'll be honest with you, the last couple of days I've been pretty grumpy.  I have been challenging myself to move past my own complacency.  I've extended some invitations to co-workers to have lunch...folks who I find interesting and who I'd like to get to know better.  You would think...it's socializing 101...but for me it doesn't come easy. Being a creative person, I tend to live in my head and I get VERY comfortable staying in my little shell. For the most part, I don't mind being a loner but I'm trying something new. It's not always comfortable nor is it very easy.

Lately, I miss writing. I've been jotting down notes, zygotes of ideas, barely fully formed that are worming their way to the surface.  I feel a little lost when I am not actively engaged with creative writing in some form every single day.  For me, jotting down lines just doesn't feel like it's ever really enough.  Hmm, that sounds like my Type A personality rearing it's head, excuse me while I put her back in that closet. Yes, still wresting between over-working and under-working.  Where to strike the balance?

Like this for instance...I wrote on the train home one night.

A couple huddles in a dark embrace 

of tongue, teeth and wet lips

who are they but youthful gods

searching for their power 

in the mouth 

in the love 

of an(other)

a reflection of potential being

the city alight with possibilities

future wakefulness.  

Not really sure yet what it needs to become but the words are on the page at least.  

Why am I not writing?  I am still dealing with some health issues that are not fully resolved so after a full day of work all I can really do is crash.  So the tidbits of scrap paper at the bottom of my purse and the notes in my lavender-colored notebook will have to do for now until I can begin again.  Today-Wednesday April 30th, I've completed two months of working at this new job.  It's been an adjustment and I'm still adjusting but more importantly I need to do my own creative work to balance out my day job. All for now will write more soon.  

Peace,

Lily~

All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2014 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

Circle

Walking the dark streets

travel logs in back pockets

youth with an order of fries

everywhere kissing bodies

collapse upon each other

thin rain blurs a stranger’s face

softening the hard edges

we are fractured lyrics

repeating the bridge, piena voce.

Reflective streets light us up

someone picks up a human tooth

slips it into a pocket for safekeeping

remember when you OD’d

you reminded me to keep breathing

strum suspension wires, rhythm

five points away from each other

You’ve used up eight lives, you

only have one life left to live, sotto voce.

Good fortunes are too fancy in copper

bowls, echoes collect on voicemail.

All our lives are hidden in pieces

on hand-held devices. Deities

sleep in white shrouds, secluded.

Our words seldom match our thoughts,

if it weren’t for the rain we’d char

each other’s edges. The scent

of burning wood stop us in our tracks. 

Listen to the hush that befalls us. 

All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2013 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

Five Points

Fingertips strike out seconds, push

along in a jagged momentum. You,

wrapped up in blankets, poetry and

careless entropy. 

We strive to cross off our time

together. I offend you when I laugh

loudly but my quiet mouth

puts you on edge. Your chatter

marks away more light.

A bottle full of water is best left

untouched, save it for a rainy day.

I hop from one foot to the next

waiting for hours to melt me back

onto a train, heading home. 

It’s been awhile since we laughed

over vapid movies and I smelled

your raw scent.  Open a bottle

of wine, pour us a taste.  We belong

in a song’s refrain.

Six a.m. writing lines, a nest of notes

built of scrap paper bloom at the bottom

of my purse.  I promise to throw out

the next poem about rain no matter

where we wind up. 

Black ashes and oil across our foreheads

ten lives out of mind.  You are concrete

when you cough, second hand moves

only when the scaffolding comes off.

Keep talking without stopping, so what

if I’ve left the room.  A dark sky, a red hand,

a grey goose circumscribes the dull ache of living.             

All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2013 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

Winter Fire

I sit in the mind of the snowfall

blanket the earth into slumber

come spirits and visions

insect-ideas writhe under flesh

itch the skin, bubble along a surface

shovel snow off a balcony, a frigid day

cold seeps into bones, etch marks

cools the hunger, a fire-thirsty brain

mother’s expectations press down

excess flesh bears up the burden well

dogs bark to scare a black squirrel

who sits on the fence eating a nut.

I enter the music of a dreaming cat

stretched out against an in-box

come prophesies and cantos

delight on a soft woman’s belly

gravity and age pull her breasts down-

ward point the way to her thighs

or a wet sex or the earth or the coffin

or the grave, thin red lines bury me alive

dark matter, universe turned upon itself

white dwarf star collapsed

meteor shower covers us in stardust

tastes of wine, cold space and silence.

I walk on the wing of an owl

reminded of acts of flight

come incantations and elders

read psalms with open hands

soft fingertips, curled tongues

longing to be a version of God

stretched across night clouds

illuminated by the full moon

shaking away a webbed cloak

of tangled sorrow, movements

loosen the knot, ride out a wave

of wind, flood the tongue, wisdom.

   

All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2014 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

Penny Thoughts

An avocado pit lies broken open
hollowed out tender sprout.
A wall of rain is broached 
with a tilted brain.
Who steals in increments?
Loose change at the bottom
of a purse, pennies short.
A cold pear waits
against the desk light.
Bite down hard, break skin.

Storing items at the bottom
of an empty coffee can  
reminds me of another time
when we were holding
ourselves solid against a wall.

All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2013 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.