II. an anthropologist he wrote a book, he called it “myths of heaven”

II. an anthropologist he wrote a book, he called it “myths of heaven”

  1. II. an anthropologist he wrote a book, he called it “myths of heaven”

                                                                      2. Exceptional rain outside The Bay and its windows and skylights and tent flaps. 

3.  so worn out

                                                                                                                                                                                 beat up even, these days, these days i sit on

corner stones

and count the time in quarter tones to ten

4. so i&#8217ll be short. 

 

To start with internet site, 

Demise of a snake

Snake on the head

 

                              Does our work mirror that we are so drained

and that loooooong relaxation is needed    that there is an altar    to placate mars pink peppers that under no circumstances got cooked on a chipped dish on an ikea step stool?

on a candle the inscribed symbol.                          ‘masculinity’/’male,’ you know     the 1 arrow/circle      x            surprising there      on the wax

 

i not long ago battled them

above fireplace

suitable following a snake

un culebrón

una boa puertorriqueña 

a Chilabothrus inornatus

get rid of its skin over me and landed on my 

head

 

True story! question me someday if we see each other. 

 

i was looking for shelter in a put

i’ve been absent from

to be compromised 

in gentle of anything

 

                 UN SER

Difundido

Difuminado

Sumergido

Invitado

Inundado 

Invertido

                   EN LUZ

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                            A Getting     

Diffused

Blurred

Submerged

Invited

Flooded

Inverted

                                                                                                                                                                                                              IN LIGHT 

Yet again, i say it it has finished

 

                                                                                                                                                              Currently!

 

Wrecked, adrift amid rotten, hole-loaded posts 

so tall, slipping about

when the wind blows much too hard

Sparks fly from flapping 

slapping wires

and we commence                    

                                                                                                                                                                     a hearth.

 

A lady in Florida

teaches me 

from afar

how to shake outdated Reminiscences out of my lower backbone

states she applied to say 

“Some of us” now says “All of us”

 

                                                                                                                                         when she speaks about trauma. 

 

El bebé huele a manzanilla 

por dormir al lado de su papá 

cuyo aliento cargaba flores

por haber tomado té

 

A las 3 de la mañana esa breve transmisión

es lo más hermoso 

de todo el universo

en todo su tiempo

The child smells like chamomile

from sleeping upcoming to their father

whose breath carries flowers

for owning drunken tea

 

At 3 a.m. this transient transmission

Is the most beautiful thing

 in all the universe

in all its time

 

Y así se fue, el fin, hasta que venga otra vez por ahí, así, prendida en llamas, tranquila.

And like that, it passes, the stop, until eventually she will come back, alight in flames, chilling.

 

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