November Sky

November

The cold, dark, black, almost blue, heavens are restlessly lit bright by the low hanging quarter moon and decorated by empty tree branches who exaggerate the star-sprinkled view. Cold air fill my lungs  abruptly  meeting my solitude.

 The whirling- burling, rustling leaves invite thoughts of everything and everyone and everyone and everything I ever knew and all is good  and all is true.

Silence. Solitude. Belonging. Oneness. A moment. I think of you.

November sky.

Midnight Love

Midnight love 

As I turn and embrace the black cold moon lit winter's night -I whisper good night my love. I take with me the  honey from your tender rose  petal ,the Jasmine  from your golden hair and I drown myself in the elixir of our forbidden passions.

Ephemeral

Ephemeral

Stray in sunbeams 

searching                           

stealing
Straying sunbeams 

penetrate         

kissing
fragments of  lost morning rain drops 

forming windows of diamonds 

glittering strange light

Kaleidoscope room and funky dance sunbeams 

paint unknowing gray walls in my footpath
Magic

brightness

unquestionable unattainable 

ever moving effervescence in the air tonight. 

Countless strangers hurry         

never pausing - never caring
never gazing at the ephemeral beauty

Here today, gone tomorrow, gone now

MCV

Thanksgiving

Seven months and twenty two days before it happens again.        

Thanksgiving.

Why should I start preparing for next year’s Thanksgiving?

I know why. 

Because of this year's Thanksgiving and the one before that and the one before that and probably because of the one that is coming this fall.  

                  

Disaster.

     

Anyway, it was on sale. 

The cheapest  time to buy anything is the day after the holiday. 

But it's  not the night after Thanksgiving-

And it's stuffing-

How much can you really save on stuffing?  

But I'm here. 

 It's on sale. 

And, it is the good kind. 

The kind with the nice picture on the box of the steaming turkey in the middle of a bountiful table and a family  of happy white people  sitting around smiling.

 Do you know why they are happy?

I'll tell you why they're happy.

It is because their ancestors killed all the Indians that lived here before. 

So today,  they sit peacefully around a beautiful  table eating with no arrows flying over  their heads. 

Poor Indians- happy  white people.

     

I don't know why I celebrate Thanksgiving. It is like me celebrating Kwanzaa or St' Patrick's Day or Hanukkah. I'm not those people. I'm pernil, rice and beans people. 

Why can't there be a pernil stuffing box? A box with smiling Spanish people around a steaming big pig head.  I'll tell you why - it's because we're nuts.

A box with the picture of my house on Thanksgiving would have my tios fighting, my mother and aunt screaming "Dios Mio" and everyone else dancing and drinking in the background.

That would be a great box.

 I would love to see that box. I bet that box would sell like crazy. 

Mmm, I should call GOYA.

But anyway, today I'm making room in the cupboard for fifty, ten cent boxes of smiling white people stuffing for next year.

Happy Thanksgiving. 

The First Kiss

The First Kiss  (A time I didn't want to go home)

     Kiss me one more time I said and I promise I will leave. She lightly touched my lips.  The darkness shielded my cowardice. I didn't want to let her go. I wanted to hold her closer. My body was electric.
     We softly open our eyes. I could see she felt it too. We were bound by an energy. She moved her hand toward mine-  before she touched me I could feel her and she could feel me. And I knew I could not leave her.
     We walked towards the car. I don't know if others were near. I don't even remember if the night was dark or if the day had come. All I knew was that I could never leave her.
     Moments may have passed, words may have been spoken, promises made I don't remember. All I know is I would never leave her. 

someone like you

     I am rushing down a water flume. Water rushing all around me. Drops of water like crystals lay across my eyes to form a transient kaleidoscope. My torso is driven aimlessly by the water that thrust me down and forward-dragged like a doll that has no strength- then silence.

     I'm standing in the middle of a street that is lined with beautiful elm trees. Brownstones hug me as I stroll so easily towards an unknown. Stars break through the branches. The silence caresses my soul.  I feel lonely, longing, melancholic. I think of you or someone like you.

     So I stroll down  the streets not so easily- hoping to find you or someone like you. 

Once I walked with gods

Once I walked with Gods

When the world was young I walked among natives in a land that kissed the heavens.
Clouds lay below, far away, floating borders, reminders that I walked with Gods.
From my spot, I could see the raindrops below. The wind blew cold air and the sun sparkled momentary warmth on my skin.
Silence can be very loud. That is where I walked where silence does not exist - where sound has never found its way.