HISTORIAS

I have lived on a fence all of my life.
It remains to be painted white as yet.
It has a second self in a river
THat appears as a surface of air

absorbing the moisture contained in breath
Clouds they are called the cotton balls mirror.
The body beheld it never had freedom.
The denseness so cruel as outrageous.
The Folkways of Slaves and Train Railways.
Cotton in Brambles Scars in the Furrows.
Fate tormented SLave VIolence Turpitude.
COnsidered more Beautiful when preserved.
For future perspective, harvest wretched,
History held over its Shoulders, Emerges.

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TO CROW

I love Crow and Crow’s Friends.  They learned to share.

THey adopt me as their student and bard

Sing to me phrases that I’d never heard.

Just like a Poet are Crow and Crow’s Heart!

While they live in my presence they never

repeat what they say every day neither

would Crow treat me that way as ritual.

For nothing between us is tedious.

We choose it to be more mysterious

and set toward that end its desires

less assumption, less routine, less allure

and more, more, more everlasting suspense

The mastery of surprise is your own

not not to imitate what Wasn’t known

ECLIPSE IGUALDAD

Come, spirit, be my Medicine tonight.

Ven, Espiritu, sea suyo el Ritmo

The sun was eclipsed yet I am alive?

El sol se Rompe y yo sigo viva?

Explain this to me, I’m greater than it?

Dame La Rason si soy mas Grande que el?

The star that was bit was greater than I.

Estimo esa estrella mas Grande.

I come here to weep I come here to die.

Vengo a llorar vengo a morir

death is as distant as eternity

La mUerta tan leja la eternidad.

I breathe. I see. I write and I still try

REspiro, Miro, Escribo y Sigo

while it lost a bit of its shine in the sky

cuando apaga a la Luz el Cielo

When it was away what has come nearer

Que es lo que se acerca atraves

than myself in the soul of evening,

La que soy por ser alma de la moche

Do you see it as I do flickering

La vez desprendiendose sus chispas?

suspended in mid air of its presence.

halucina el imagen en su ambiento

KNEES OF MERCY

http://isolatefleck.blogspot.com/2014/10/knees-of-mercy.html

SON MARTIR

http://laplumaala.blogspot.com/2014/10/martir-son.html

The Soul is a Boat

The soul is a boat   the ocean sails.

Far on its distance and deeper within

It navigates the universe,  a  fin,

for harbor is the universe  an oar.

As the shore of an anchor   moors the tide

The wind-breathing of the sky  inhales

As existence a shoal of the sea spills

Beauty encircles   the hour returns

The beauty of the undulant waves bring

each orbits the weeping of the ages

and with swells of the size of creation

completes its renewal begins again

The soul is an ancient such mystery

it knows is equal to the seasons.

Wild Bird Cultured Roses

The flower that grows while the crow that crows

are attached to both ends of a horizon

stretched over its features introduces

a day like no other that’s come before

when the stem brings to beauty a mirror

as symbol of the sustenance of love

it perfumes with so ancient a perfume

scented stamen adheres to its color

presently across the sidewalk I pass

each speaks to me one is inaudible

cracking through the cosmos into the dirt

the other by two’s chants its messages

wild as birds and cultured as roses

fly wings of the sky, opaque and spacious