My poem “the ridicule of the unknown” published by Vita Brevis.
I want you to know how much I appreciate you reading my work and inspiring me.
your eyes, the prohibition of cold winters
my eyes, the wanderers of earth
a copper sea mimics the candor
silence flies over the same archipelago
golden feathers are your waters
your lips taste wine
please continue reading here
My poem “triolets” published by Spillwords Press.
Please know that your support and love are the real inspiration behind my work.
“I wish to see you walk through the Arco de Elvira, to find out your name and shed a tear.” Federico García Lorca.
a violet sunset laments in the city
saps of triolets flow on my neck
i stretch inside your memory
like felines on grasslands
a lily cries
my bracelets dangle
the eyes of candles flicker in your Spanish nights
fingers of lascivious desires
please continue reading here
“I, Miguel Julian Veracruz, take you to be my wife until the end of my life and beyond. I swear on the true cross of my ancestors who endured famine, who fought hurricanes, who sailed their ships through darkness and light into the vastness of the ocean, bible in one hand and sword in the other, to love you until the end of all worlds. My ancestors killed. May my love for you wash the blood from their hands. My ancestors burned down temples. May the fire of my love for you redeem them. May […]
Say yes, Clara, say yes, please!”
Miguel’s words cut the sky in two. The green of his eyes looked exactly like that of his Maria de Guadalupe medallion which he never took off. That beautiful silver Spanish ring, a family heirloom, worn by his mother on the fourth finger of her right hand, appeared on his palm out of nowhere.
Lightning struck the waters. A whirlpool of colors flamed the boat; the air was spinning around me like a tornado let lose over the face of the earth. My breathing stopped. I thought I was imagining everything.
Jacques asked in that deep, unmistakable voice of his.
“Where were you Clara?”
“In Miguel’s boat on the waters of the Atlantic. In the beginning it looked like an ordinary Sunday afternoon. Miguel ordered the boat out. I thought it was odd that he was not sailing it. He hired a captain whose wife cooked dinner, set the table, and brought a bunch of papers for us. I did not know what they were.”
“What did you say, Clara?”
Excerpt from the manuscript “Glass Lovers” (draft)
image: Sofi photo; Shutterstock; [link]
your secret hides inside my name
inside the splendor of the night in which you didn’t say a word
feathers of macaw birds trace music sheets
the rays of sun stretch on the pebble beach
a fragrant song delights itself on my red lips
i rest my head on your left shoulder
into the lands of spices waiting to be born
some carnal dreams howl on the corridor
i locked the door!
this morning we can die
we won’t tell a soul
and never ask for more
image: Liliya Kulianionak; Shutterstock [link]