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a five line ode to my poetry index.
a modern day view of the second-class carriage (or, weekdays). a quick memoir of september the eighth. a thousand witnesses. an eon and a day. banishment. belief and other such musings. blue period. considering your character. contemporary gipsy (a hippy love story). crazy music. envy. first cigarette. greyhound on 85th. gridlock. in short, september 13th. julie plays the hero. last cigarette, for terry olynik. my pathetic secret. my thalidomide baby. ode to communication. ode to giovanni lee alvarez (or, disenchanted). ode to the tough guy. passagers. sometimes, her name was. the seven minutes of sunrise (or, infatuation). the truth about him and i. you, lost. 2007 2006 2005 home |
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Honest to God I have found tranquility. My legs were shaking like I'd just had sex And I found Five hundred miles Of pointed graffiti And art and crying masses meet Miami's dusty corridors At five a.m. I felt the pain of creative burden aching in my backbones and hipbones and breasts And demanded the leniance of turnstiles And old latino men, "Que linda, que linda, yo te quiero." It is much too early and, (unlike you, vato), I haven't got sugar cane memories of Havana Or little Havana Or anywhere else. "Guero, Gringa, Yo te amo." I gave birth to my own solipsistic universe, And nature is an exacting book-keeper. Mondays Modern day Second-class Carriage And nobody meets anyone's eyes without ... Awkward (is he still staring at me?) The woman with the lazy eye Is nothing but Brickell Station Right now. Mondays at Government Center, how do you do? |