poems
The world is a tomb
branches and twigs.It is a giant cemetery
much of it ends up in the sea.
with flowers everywhere
can see.
buried along with our literature
and language.
No mathematician could add up
the numbers of all that perished
*
Your Voice at Night
At night your voice sounds more
tired when you speak. I hear you
rough waves refuse to let yourvoice amplify. It is devoured by
clearly, only to be defeated by
The World is Just…
The world is just
shopping and having
Starbucks for breakfast
best sellers on pop singers,
to stay in cheap hotels,
the latest superhero flick.
without Barbies butwith real babies
or share their names.
*
What Am I Saying?
the spring in your step
not the same this year?
Hope it will get better.
Plan for your demise.What am I saying?
pick out fruit?
are growing wild.
I want to stay home.
I tumble from my dream
and I can’t get up.
I stay within reach
I plan my next meal,
I cut an orange in two.
sitting on the curb
and having a long
conversation with
laces and no soles.
his leg right above
His brown eyes are
stop smiling. He waves
off the social workers
when offered medical
of this street and has
all he needs to get by.
a matted hair, he laughs
heartily from dusk to
will lose his throne as
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