cicatriz de estrella

triste Celedonia

alma de ave

flor que deslumbra al sol

guardiana de tus dioses

tus remedios tu dolor

cuando llegaste a este mundo

tu alma marcada con cicatriz de estrellas

tener que dejar a tus valles ríos y montanas

tus lumbres tus plantas tus mañas

toda la magia heredara no te la puedes llevar

al cruzar al este mundo mecánico y vacio

todos tus retoños siguieron en fila

menos el más tierno bello y delicado

con el tiempo se marchito

los venenos extranjeros no aguanto

promesas antiguas rotas en ira

de que sería la más bella flor

en el altar de la diosa

Celedonia no hay caso en continuar

de regar el pequeño retoño con tus lagrimas

se fue no está ni hoy ni siempre

has tu vida con tus otros retoños

pero en tu alma herida

mantén en asilo al retoño perdido

cicatriz estrela

celedonia triste

alma de pássaro

flor que ofusca o sol

guardião dos seus deuses

seus remédios

sua dor

quando você veio para este mundo

sua alma marcada com cicatriz estrela

tem que deixar seus vales rios e montanhas

suas luzes suas plantas suas truques

toda a magia de herança que você não pode levar

ao atravessar este mundo mecânico e vazio

todos os seus otários permaneceram alinhados

menos o mais terno lindo e delicado

eventualmente definhado venenos estrangeiros eu não suporto

velhas promessas quebradas em raiva

Essa seria a flor mais bonita no altar da deusa

Celedonia não há nenhum caso em continuar

regar a pequena prole com suas lágrimas

ele deixou não é nem hoje nem sempre

faça sua vida com seus outros filhos

mas na sua alma ferida

manter o broto perdido no asilo

star tissue

sad Celedonia

bird soul

flower that dazzles the sun

guardian of your gods

your remedies your pain

when you came to this world

your soul marked with star tissue

you had to leave your valleys rivers and mountains

your lights your plants your tricks

all the inherited magic you can’t take when crossing

into this mechanical and empty world

all your saplings remained in line

least the most tender beautiful and delicate one

eventually it withered

it couldn’t stand those foreign poisons

old promises broken in anger

that she would be the most beautiful flower on the goddess altar

Celedonia there is no case

in continuing to water the little offspring with your tears

he left and won’t return neither today nor always

make your life with your other offspring

but in your wounded soul

keep the lost sapling in asylum

physics, interrupted

the apple trees died last winter sitting on the front porch watching the bird bath go green with time’s CO2 no apples no birds they went away forever until three years from now it’s times like this when i think of Dr. Hawking and his warning to Geneva in a most conventional way we don’t know what we don’t but we know we shouldn’t  but still we do being made in His image what does it mean when we create in tubes surpassing victor frankenstein shriveled are the avenues showered in teeny asteroids that take our minds to the false heaven while we float in our own shit and we land hard but we won’t cure cancer and while the pipelines feed our need to ride free man i mean really free at what cost and my wild beasts are wild no more floating away on sheets of ice as seen on tv on the front porches of the brownstones on Union Avenue  i miss the apples

Burlington Ave. Retirement Home

you’ve earned the right to sleep

after the end of battle

the mountains and the breeze

of change that do not fluctuate

all was traded some left to the side

the city of angels

is where you now reside

the dream of any freedom

that never was fulfilled

stolen from you your soul and your kʼuhul ajaw. past

Guajoyo in blood, Mozote in fire, Junquillo the same

sidewalk pillows and bottles as slaves

your problems have grown up

the leaving of stains in memories of women

of lies in the jungles with snippets of Monroe

the linens wasted pulp

shared by the poets and the popes

of a world so far away from you

wasting away in the alley of industrialized Golgotha

burlington avenue retirement home

cocoon

February, in a place where there is no time
but to waste

you, two young soldiers kept at bay
by a raggedy county tax funded white veil

there, between the cold and the colder concrete bed
lays a baby butterfly

ready to take flight, transforming, shaking off its earth,rising from its origin towards the hand of God

i envied your horizontal stance

but from my wretched vertical position

winced at what might have been your life
a supernova worm
before a thousand suns and so many many other moons
rivers crossed and coins spent

but wings are in their stead

mercy tipped love arrow and light
cleansing, beautiful,wondrous light
no more ripping of your worm cloak

like such

i, still in my lateral hoax left to rot

for summers more
good bye, good bye, good bye