After the music has stopped
you betray us with crescent
speech and dandelion whispers,
ever aware of the familiar
chasm that lives with gangly
feet over the hand rail.
Invert your body for
that junky loving feeling.
Make believe that I love you
for nine more days and
offer up an elegy in its wake.
****
this is a bit rough but there are phrases that I enjoy.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 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, August 3, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
Ode to a Feckless Life
A cardinal chitters warning cries
entangled in the rose vines.
She is out of work as she lies
against the wasp’s wings.
Where do you seek your inspiration
with an empty sky and a prickly sun?
A black cat stalks a cricket’s cry.
Prayers slip through the wooden
cracks. Write in short phrases while
walking barefoot in the backyard.
A beetle’s wings buzz and contracts
his iridescent body glints. She reads
a book of poetry on a metal staircase.
A smell of burning wood skims the air.
There was a spark on Venus, a flicker
of firelight, when you stretched across
the ocean. I miss you only
when you are unfettered memories.
I read the clouds and the pouring rain.
You, in the middle of your exile, speak
fluid language. The leaves singe when
white butterflies flutter a lonely ballad.
A cold sour lemon for a wet tongue
and an empty page. This is how we
survive a flock of seagulls fighting over
slippery bits of fish.
There are thick I want phrases that touch
minds and skip off lips. A laundry of damp
towels wave off a melancholy mood.
At what age do we stop asking for penance?
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 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.
Labels:
poetry
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Pitching Matchsticks
The meaning did not stick to the roof of my mouth.
There are leftovers of corn tortillas and slimy
nopalitos. The scent of hot wires and jalapenos
made our eyes water. You've burned our lives down
and have empty shoes to prove it.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 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.
There are leftovers of corn tortillas and slimy
nopalitos. The scent of hot wires and jalapenos
made our eyes water. You've burned our lives down
and have empty shoes to prove it.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 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.
Labels:
poetry
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)