poemas infinitos: ten poems by me

apotheosis of meat

the face is an accident of circumstances

peel it back and the eyes still stare

unaware of their destiny

somewhere between pulse

and the decay

the body reinvents itself

in a convergence of nerves

every spasm is a confession

divinity spills itself

not outward

but upward

flesh undone

your ribs open up beneath my fingertips

an invitation for trembling and torment

warm and sincere

no incense is needed

your blood perfumes the air

tongue

our language coagulates

a clot of saliva

drips in your mouth

through the pulp of pain

we speak

when speech is no longer enough

when meaning collapses

we understand nothing but the taste

in the end

when tongue meets tongue

gnawed

severed

speech ends

and the mouth tastes only itself

fanged tremor

the metallic smell

i taste its fear

a sign of weakness

i trace the arteries

in red, in ruin

i write in wounds

delight is irrelevant

i speak in tremor

the last year

an azure jay that carries yesterday

pauses on a fence

its eyes contain decades

tomorrow leans on its beak

its wings point to where

a bell tolls

but no tower stands

shards

the sky fractures

i stretch my hands

light spirals in on itself

infinite hums

thoughts coil

i'm once again

dreaming of infinity

tenth month

i feel it first

in my chest

a hollow i left behind

subtle like a bruise

i remember someone

that didn't promise me anything

though spring comes, i'm not ready

buds grow where frost thrived

wind cuts across my thoughts

sunlight falls in pieces i can not catch

the air breathes in

heavy and indifferent

the world exhales

slowly and silent

without wonder

there are no miracles in october

ode

the river speaks of fire

the oaks yearn with old desire

behind new icons

they are called by their old names

it runs quietly

though no one answers anymore

the voices of old

no form was ever mine

commoners

the sun watches our toiling

the roots wait to be free

before we take the dirt on our hands

we must go through the thorns

beneath all the concrete

soil waits to be sown

mouth

the flesh is inherited

 what would consume us was devoured

to eat is to make it anew

to make it ours

skin becomes an invitation we don't need

we don't know where the other ends 

or i begin