(2015)
For my beautiful nieces and nephews, who of course are the funnest kids in the whole wide world.
Didn’t they know that people cared? That they were loved? Why didn’t someone tell them?
Pragmatic me Doesn’t like this girl You can’t depend on her Too complex to understand She cries at the worst times
Mis manchas de Bambi Manchas blancas Cubren mi cuerpo La gente se queda mirando Pero no les da asco
I wallow in my sadness As it pools up It has not swallowed me Who floats above its surface This surface
My parents always say We’re proud of you I am too I got out of bed I used to get so much done
My poems are short Written at night In my head I wake at dawn Shake my memory
Tomorrow Has not yet come It’s promises yet to be broken Tomorrow Is bigger
Does the world need Another book? Another poem? I add one more to the pile To be left alone
Who am I? I am me When did I Become me? As I recall
Good secret Bubbles inside Let me out Bad secret Indigestion
My heart breaks A little each day For problems I can’t solve For things I can’t change All I can do is pray
Your pain is far away I hear it But I do not feel it Move closer Let me know you’re here to stay
How do you measure pain? All is relative and personal Even with one’s own self It is impossible to compare As memory distorts pain
A palomino gallops Beside the highway Look out the window Rides over green hills Through yellow flowers
The teenage rebels All fall in line Be they hippies Goths, rockers or skaters Moving from one mould