Moon Over a Hundred Summers

witnesses so much! Watches technology change
a people like Michaelangelo chipped away the marble
parts that weren’t his statue. Watches construction
and destruction, watches commitment and watches
how easy it is to destroy, watches what people throw away
for passion, watches magnificent structures crumble
into dust in the heat of a moment, watches bridges
collapse, watches rivers shrivel dry, watches families
unravel, watches lovers elope over and over again
at a sickening pace. Watches, cringes and shivers.

Watches the Earth in decomposition, slow decomposition,
and wants to help! Wants to offer a helping hand, wants
to extract the complication between lovers, wants
to freeze life during childhood, but knows the impossibility,
knows even the moon must grow up, must eventually question
its own path, its own orbit, its own relationship to the Earth,
its own existence even, but wants to delay the conversation
as long as possible, for a hundred summers is just not enough
time to judge the potential of anything.

Untitled Chicago

In the morning Lake Michigan glimmered
as the sun rose between two high rise buildings.
We sat across from each other at the table
eating quiche, one of us speaking Spanish,
the other speaking English.

During the night we woke at intervals
to meowing cats and the city’s bustle. Earlier,
when I pressed her against the wall,
I held her hands above her head and brushed
my hand down her skin. We listened closely

as the desires of our bodies whispered
and moaned and indicated exactly where
and when to touch. And, as there was

no complication to our thoughts, the large bed
started to float, and as there were no expectations
of each other, the ceiling opened and the Chicago stars
poured down out of black sky, through the thin veil
of orange city night glow and dripped over our skin.

Return

Over the great blue sea of mystery,
one more time for the ages, and,

while the past is a flood of smiles,
good wishes, people never to be seen

again, and the future holds rings, babies,
friends, laughter and music, right now

my mouth is closed, my lips are dry,
my thoughts in spanish, my desires fleeting,

my humor faded, my family closer
and that magnificent sea just a vast floor

under blotches of clouds thousands
of meters below. And to think:

to sum up experience, words always fall short,
but will have to do for the time being.

View from the Sky

As we headed North to Chicago, following
the Mississippi, with the Earth far, far below,

the sun cast vivid rays across the land
and made the lakes glimmer gold,

scattered flakes of gold from the horizon
all the way to the snaking river.

We moved slowly through the air and sometimes
huge golden pelican heads winked a golden wink

and sometimes flaccid golden balloons lay there
with shiny golden rubber skin. At this altitude

we saw the soft curve of the Earth. And
as the clouds, like wispy pockets, sheathed

the golden flakes, one could have really looked out
the window and said: well, this is quite a perspective

if I ever have seen one before.