poet
Two poems published
Read them at Bone Orchard Poetry.
the nihilists
abyss
and the emptiness of
A weak wind
being bent as silent structure
on the margin of the hours
by the beach
a walk through the empire of rock
after death
love sits
with legs cold
and the storm of the sand
every crash
is wrath
looped in symbol
of being alone
with others
older in the corner
of mosaic
mystery is a heavy mist
pounded on our eyes
love sits
with cold legs
and the emptiness of the sand
those fingers
to carve in the skin of this earth
the folded name;
the forgotten
labyrinth of him.
Contemporary Poetry
us
They told me to squeeze
structure
into home
and open windows
to air out essence
see I have been obedient
shedding coats of laughter
like films of light over
a miracle of corner,
and this thing
consciousness is hanging
like dust
in the atmosphere
but we’ve
made arrangements
and passion is hard
like furniture,
mahogany and steel
like dream and real
together bound
in braid
somewhere near
the end of this
and the world
tiny pretty thing
climbs into the air
like a moth
to disappear
over the object
and become invisible
like the rest of
us.
Contemporary Poetry
19A
A saint is a stain on white monotony
aloud he thinks: I
am a strange dot among the government of lines;
a mystic is a calm slip into abyss
all joking aside he says:
above the city leaps into tower;
a shaman is a subject under the tyranny of wholeness
aware of segments he asserts:
a fraction is mind lost in the order of totality;
alone in the world every man wonders:
afraid like a leaf in autumn my life
amidst the rain;
a poet is an absolute ark of air
abstruse and above all
a little puddle of reflection
at the end he writes:
a full world and its aura
asleep inside a shoebox
an allegory for barefoot monks.
Contemporary Poetry
here of time (a translation)
here
in this stone
not one two sounds
rain neither in the air
or light giving echo in its shores
here
was quiet
and very slow
in this blue-ceiling stone
there was no yesterday it was beautiful
without clothes and open nudity
dripping between the legs
of day and night of glass
without stars or questions
all transparent
without language
asleep with names
like shadows in the
shell here of time.
(a translation of http://nihilisticpoetry.com/2013/09/29/aqui-del-tiempo/)
Contemporary Poetry
arterial aerial
Cleave to that place
arterial
the vessel no the aerial
where fading flight merges
with being and life
is no longer
an only particular
thing
but interior of great
continuity
of circulation density
dripping
in center toward
multiplicity
and radiates back
into blood
the skin, your eyes, your hands
the fur of the world
at your fingertips.
Contemporary Poetry
Q&A
Father what is bigger than the moon?
The earth my child.
Why?
Because if the earth were an empty bird’s nest,
it could fit several moons inside.
What’s bigger than the earth?
A sun my child.
Why?
Because if a sun were an orange
then the earth’d be a tiny crumb of bread.
If you were starving, which one would you pick?
What’s bigger than a sun?
A galaxy my child.
Why?
Because if a sun were a bee,
a galaxy would be a swarm of bees
flying in hypnotic circles, ellipses
and parabolas around their hive.
What’s bigger than a galaxy?
Human thought my child.
Why?
Because thought is like a net
that can catch all the bees in the universe
and put them in a jar and study their
colors, structure, venom, instincts,
language, and habits.
What’s bigger than human thought?
Emptiness my child.
Why?
Because thought is like a tiny bubble in the vast
sea of nothingness that surrounds us, leaving
little more than a local ripple on the surface
once it expires.
What’s bigger than emptiness?
Mystery my child.
Why?
Because mystery is the quality that all things
share in their being or nonbeing.
What’s bigger than mystery?
You my child… you.
- dedicated to my unborn daughter
Beyond Language 
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