Untitled #8

Here, they greet Brooklyn mornings
with a tall cup of foamy coffee,
in an intolerant belly
that rumbles and grumbles
along with the steel rolling cage.

Below, the water keeps rising
we can barely hold it back
as it seeps and floods the tunnels
causes delays and detours.
Where did we leave our wings?

Today, tourists sit on double-decker bus
looking down upon the natives
in the ritual of caffeine-on-the-run.

Tomorrow, our streets will run with water
the bulls would have long since drowned
in the white-wash of financial matters.
An imperfect reflection of the sea devouring
our coastline and shifting seeds to higher ground.


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.

Untitled #7

On this cold day in October,
the walls of my house envelope me,
where afternoon light startles me blind,
fresh ginger slices boil in water on the stove,
and my brother and father flip channels
between a Yankee's game and a Jet's game.

Someone forgot to mention
how being aimless can make numbness
flower from your belly outward
as my brother and my father
eat a bag full of peanuts
piling up high, shells on a napkin.

The husks look like empty insects,
we look for fishhooks to bait.
I have plans to kill a scaly creature
but a raven's caw warns against the season,
death trappings binds one to a soul.


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.

Untitled #6

Her voice is a plum fruit
filled with anxiety. The rest of the time
she sings songs without melodies.

She loves me in a punch-drunk
kind of way. And the hangover is blinding.
My cat perches on the edge of the sofa,
and puffs up when she enters.

She is not under contract,
threatens to leave once a day,
The cage door is left open,
she dances on the doorstep.

I keep hiding her in a box,
but she refuses to stay locked away.
Instead, we spend most of our time
looking for each other.

She is a messenger from the heavens
who has forgotten her speech
Her uneasiness makes holes
past the wall, against the stones.


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.