(2015)
Que te cuentan un chiste Las palabras se traducen Pero el humor no se puede Por si no lo entiendes Ríete
To be a true artist Must they be recluses Crazy mad or sick Or even better dead Show me a healthy artist
Don’t talk down to me I am not a child! Even children Deserve respect
The medication is not me But neither is the sickness it tre… You may hear its effects In my voice In my opinions
Life is good A little luxury A cup of coffee Served with toast Consumed lazily
A palomino gallops Beside the highway Look out the window Rides over green hills Through yellow flowers
Dime ¿Qué es su lengua materna? Ni inglés Ni español Sus padres no hablan inglés
The strings that attach me To this world Ground me Yes they sometimes Keep me from flying
Nothing makes people flee Like reading them poetry They value it in theory But please don’t make them read Surprise me with your verse
You might know her As blonde eyes Or as the sister who bakes cookies But you see I don’t write this
I am unique In so many ways But while variety excites What we look for Is our common thread
Scratchy plaid blanket Red with yellow stripes Hot and itchy underneath Claustrophobia strikes Purple and blue prisms
Water Beach pools and fountains Rivers creeks and waterfalls The sound The feel Floating Weightless
Who am I? I am me When did I Become me? As I recall
Does the world need Another book? Another poem? I add one more to the pile To be left alone