The impressions you desperately try to make and the sugarcoating you desperately try to taste will never be worth anything. I've walked some street lately, always at sunset and beyond- to imagine myself as a part of the Earth around me, as something that could blend. But I do not want that; a blended rock pressed into the hard dirt, or just another dried out concaved river bed below the hills. These ordinary things, forgotten. I am less of that than you; noted and noticed, standing with the great waves but not in them.

"You're lost little girl". Hardly? I doubt it.

nothing but a passerby

There are low points in canyons, where life ceases to exist in the darkness,
where there is no sun to nurture life or warmth;
And no human goes there or could survive there,
but the ones with lesser souls who thrive on darkness and thrive on lifeless depths,
and you have hit that low point.


Life works like a game of Dominoes, and the instant that first block fell, it had a lasting effect. I want the last one to fall and just start over, but I don't really know how far down the train this is yet.

I find solace in the winding loop that tunnels through the draping circular silhouettes, bright and black against the small orange lanterns of town. I trace my web around the roads already spun, pressing myself into the hard ground.

The Earth maybe isn't so small afterall.

my skin feels like ice.

i'm a woman (i'm a backbone)

What is another clear day
when the devils are left behind anyway?

Each separate red limb diving in
where the rolling blue can digest their sins.

beijos (kisses)

where has this sudden arrangement of wallflowers sprung from?
our lips hardly equipped for explanation-
-we ride the high-tide of foamy green seas,
the alibi saws our vocal cords like the abrasive salt.

the sun rises first
for you,
over the eastern half of the dunes,
and settles
on my western front.
whose eyes embrace more light?
we are nothing to one another but mere questions.
will we reach,
or only chase,
our dream to answer?