How deep sorrow feels, beneath wet feet
on wood planks, splinters off
into various directions, composes
single tones of unequal measures.
How deep guilt clings, beneath red hands
on warm skin, impales,
weakening momentum, yields
forward velocity into a fixed point.
How deep desire sinks, beneath dry tongue
on thick lips, leads off
anywhere, spiraling inward
fluid elements have an angular velocity.
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.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Untitled #13
I've managed to compose your verses
in a poem of single lines
that do not connect
with one another
in the wake of your departure
by way of the fire escape.
You have stolen my last bottle of corona
a pack of cigarettes, a pink lighter
that I've noticed so far.
I've managed to compose some lines
that do not rhyme
nor kiss your temples with praise
we do not connect
in the wake of your departure
by way of the window.
You have left behind letters, the t-shirt
you wore last, a pendant
removed from your neck.
I've managed to set the letters,
bundled in your favorite t-shirt,
on fire, by way of the window
with little praise on my lips
and lines that have retired
into the licking flames,
in the wake of your departure.
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.
in a poem of single lines
that do not connect
with one another
in the wake of your departure
by way of the fire escape.
You have stolen my last bottle of corona
a pack of cigarettes, a pink lighter
that I've noticed so far.
I've managed to compose some lines
that do not rhyme
nor kiss your temples with praise
we do not connect
in the wake of your departure
by way of the window.
You have left behind letters, the t-shirt
you wore last, a pendant
removed from your neck.
I've managed to set the letters,
bundled in your favorite t-shirt,
on fire, by way of the window
with little praise on my lips
and lines that have retired
into the licking flames,
in the wake of your departure.
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.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Untitled #12
You carve out birds from my waist,
spill, not blood but, embryonic fluids
into the descending sky, and earth
receives damaged plumage in reprisal.
No father will greet us at the door
in such damaged condition, the porch-
light will switch off as water seeps
into those red canvas sneakers.
You were never hungry enough,
undertones were colored indigo hues,
seconds spin around your face,
cravings emanate in song phrases.
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.
spill, not blood but, embryonic fluids
into the descending sky, and earth
receives damaged plumage in reprisal.
No father will greet us at the door
in such damaged condition, the porch-
light will switch off as water seeps
into those red canvas sneakers.
You were never hungry enough,
undertones were colored indigo hues,
seconds spin around your face,
cravings emanate in song phrases.
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.
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