Miss

I miss right now. I feel words are interrupted by thought, and I only want to feel. Tomorrow I read in public, and I don't care. I will read and leave, and forget that my words are 78 of two thousand for the day. I am looking for poems, and want to be ridiculous. I want to repeat this:


The neighbors have a cook out
and they feed the dog, bones
they give them the sensation
of being human
the way that we
walk towards each
other we walk
and we dance
we follow the chairs
the empty seats
and we begin to see
how we can go through stages
the nymph
becomes the dragonfly
and we share a cup
this is just another love poem
a lie of where we once were
a drink
there was almost an incident
when the small pick up truck
was a gust of dirt and force
there was almost a time I fell
out of love
when I worked my bones
into words
filling my mouth
like lips.

Tired

I am officially tired. I haven't been this involved in life, ever, I think. I'm enjoying it though, but I used to get my thoughts tied up because I was thinking to fast, now ideas develop in my mind, travel through nerves, and finally, reach my tounge in bits and pieces.
So I'll probably take a day off soon. What will I do that day? Work. But, i'm not complaining, just trying to take everything in. These are moments I want to enjoy, but sometimes they are confined to schedules and deadlines.
And my dreams keep growing. I dream of business and the community. I'm not afraid of failure, but of beginnings. I fear wanting too much, as I do now. It feels the past six years were spent at a standstill, but can i start running now? Can I make everything that speeds next to me into the best moments? I want to learn again, I want to travel, get lost in small towns and literally be nobody. I realize the time I spent traveling before was knowledge even though I didn't search for specifics, and picked up whatever i could find, but now I know what I want. How much do I want it? Can I change/outgrow myself or is this who I will finally be?

Here is my "I just wrote this" poem for today's blog.



dichos
que dicen amor
from two medium eggs
a can of refried beans
and a fruit
concotion:
orange slices
pecan bits
jicama.
this almuerzo
sin nombre
ni apellido
is mama's
gift

Pray

I was asked to pray, but I don't believe in god. I think that belief can be respected, but its not. Should I compare myself to the native in line for conversion? I did pray, thanking for food and my company, but I didn't mention god, so maybe that saved me.

Spur of the moment poem-

Pray
to you
i think
light falls
and prays
for dusk
and back
rubs
for a sign
of hope
of salvation
in me
hope
hope
hope
love lives
inside religion
that a prayer
can save me
from falling down
to my own mistakes
that being
catholic
was another mistake
that curanderas
don't really exist
and herberias
sell rosemary
y hojas de limon
pray
that i can order
meat like a man
drink beer
like a man
and pray
i love
like i did
believed
i could
save or
be saved.

Mentiras

I think I lie because I speak through emotion. I know the real, but it changes when spice is added. I see a hair with a slight tip of grey, but i call it un pelito perdido entre los otros, 28 years of missing, loving, hurting and then hurting, loving, and missing. It's a final fall leaf about to be plucked. One million songs through my head and 500+ beers in the night...memories...deja vu...daydreams...But it's not that...it is a single hair with a tip of grey.

Here's something new

I blame
icicles
falling
freeing
heart ideas
mind feelings