Más Poemas de Amor - June 20th Print

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Two lovers on a rock
lying in the sun and the summer wind
she rests her head
near to the sound-hole of his guitar
like one listens to a stomach
with child.

weeds are pulled to and fro in the water
willows are pulled to and fro in the breeze
everything is pulled to something
though some of us are stubbornly resisting
and swimming upstream.


I am like a humming bird in the house
colliding with the glass of a bay window
because it sees the sun

I entered this mental cage
in haste again
because I saw that expression
inviting me in
and I am using old logic
to try and get out.

It's best not to drink the water from my words
take the truth directly from the well in our eyes.
I am warning you:
everything else
is a lie


Patience is the greatest form of grace.
you cannot construct a hill
to resemble the sloping waist that
nature makes
with patience...
sprinkled in meadow grass and wildflower jewelry.

Today I entered the shop
of the woman who taught me patience
like the spider taught the native Americans to weave
beautiful beads the size of sand
into tapestries.

She wore gray hair to her waist in a braid
- only the color had changed -
and lines that ten years
had traced around her mouth and eyes.

When my parents fought deep in the night:
I wove her patience.

And when the beads were knocked to the floor
because the careless limb of a child careened,
they mixed with dust and bugs into a multi-colored mess.

With a needle and time
I would sort them again
and hear no words in the house
but for hers.


I don't have to seduce you
the scent of the moon-vine seduces you
and we breath the same air.

I don't have to woo you
the stars do
and I will make myself a shadow
in the courtyard

expose your skin to the rain
and let a little bit of the world in!

To taste the difference in these lives,
you cannot share just one meal.

Stay on
and let the night air
feel your vulnerability.