Works of verse

Lágrimas en Sangre

Ustedes que me condenaron

robándome mis sueños

y entregándome temor

convirtiendo mi musa en un vacío.

Me quitaron mis alas

y soy ave sin libertad.

Ahora lloro con lágrimas en sangre

por culpa de sus rotos corazones.

Pero mi furia verán,

mostrándose en un huracán vengativo.

Yo regresaré en la luz de un relámpago

y en la música de un trueno.

Mis ojos estarán entre las sombras

vigilando su maldad,

sintiendo sus risas venenosas

y por siempre pagarán mis lágrimas en sangre.



Translation into English by the author

Tears of Blood

You who have condemned me

by robbing me of my dreams

and gifting me with fear,

turning my muse into an emptiness…

They took away my wings,

and I’m a bird without freedom.

Now I cry with tears of blood,

their broken hearts are the culprits.

But they will see my fury

shown in a vengeful hurricane.

I will come back in the light of the lightning;

in a chorus of thunder I will return.

My eyes will lurk in the shadows

watching their wickedness,

feeling their poisonous laughter

and forever they will pay for my tears of blood.

Midnight Waltzes

She arched her back and

swept her arms,

dancing like the shadows did.

She watched them prance upon the walls,

straying, stretching, bending free

She envied them in all their glory,

all their freedom set before her

Twisting by and twirling, swirling,

Waltzing to a midnight tune,

moved and swayed by subtle winds,

swept to where the light has fled

From the midnight moon they stemmed,

And cast the walls in darkened grace,

Elegance with every glide,

Silent darkness undisturbed,

’til signs of dawn begin to etch

their mark upon the midnight balls,

light bursting in upon the room,

mystery gone and all exposed,

glaring white—the empty walls,

midnight dancers banished now

her arms fall limply to her sides,

Freedom, beauty gone with night


This work received a Gold Award in The Scholastic Art & Writing Awards of 2002.

Mi Hermana

Para Alexandra

Los portones de mi alma

se abrirán para tí, pequeña

que con corazón salvaje

y llena de coraje entra al mundo.

Rendirte jamás, corre viento

que con prisa llega

y ven a mí para extender mis brazos,

para que llegue mi luz através de tí.

Naces para crear vida en mí,

para descansar en mi pecho,

para jugar inocentemente,

naces para que mi fe pueda crecer.

Que ocurra el milagro

y vive hasta más no poder.

Vive el mundo de fantasía donde yo anduve

y ámalo eternamente.



Translation into English by the author

My Sister

For Alexandra

The gates of my soul

will open for you, my pequeña

who enters the world with a heart

wild and filled with courage.

Surrender never, run as the wind

that arrives with haste

and comes to me so that I can extend my arms,

so that my light can come through you.

You are born to create life in me,

to rest on my chest,

to play innocently,

you are born so that my faith may grow.

Let the miracle be

and live until you live no more.

Live the world of imagination where I was

and love it eternally.

In the Palm of Remembrance

Outside my window of old

wood, and wayward cobwebs

down in deep crevasses, where the poet dwindles

inscriptions of his fading passages

found on white chalk walls


I can almost see my childhood slip away

like fragments of a mirror broken

by reflection changed

with time


Countless moments become memories

the fantasies, fading into shadows

dancing in tune with sunlight,



So now I find myself standing alone; the eye of the storm

my roots reaching deep, and holding this land

in the palm of remembrance


You whisper to me across

the divide

The words, forever lost to the distance

Never reach me

A look of pain crosses your face as I fail to understand

So frustrated, so angry, so desperate for connection


But you move not close

You raise not your voice

Just continuing in an endless whisper

The indecipherable tones softly strangling our last chance

Each syllable a note to the requiem


The sky is grey,

Tall buildings all around

My eyes turn to the girl,

the girl walking alone

down the street.


I’m invisible.


Through the rain

she walks,

Hood of her jacket

thrust back.


I’m invisible.


She stops,


at something that’s

not there,

Does she see



I’m invisible.


She walks on,

her eyes


But she saw



I’m invisible.


They don’t want

to see


So they don’t.

No one does.


I’m invisible.


But she saw


She knows

And that’s



1. Crystal

The elephant,

fragile, distorts the waves

trumbling out of the lamp,

and throws an angry rainbow

on the wall.


The earrings slip

out of the case, their icicles

hang from a screw, and drip light

on your shoulders.


In the valley that the snow cannot reach,

It is cold and dry; the ice on the mountain

Looks down at it and laughs.


2. Window

“You must hurry up if we are to make it.”

I lounge on the chair.


The creatures below carry their light well.

Ants with lanterns, they rush home with food.


At a certain line, the moon bends,

And the stream twists to get a better view of our room.


One creature looks up: me on the chair,

You at the mirror, and we giving them a light from above.


3. Windscreen

Soundless driving. In this cage, we hold

Ourselves together as best we can


By looking at a road… some road, this road.

A dog barks in the distance.

The windscreen does not let me see it.


4. Cup

The wine seeps into the deep red carpet,

And is lost.

The maid cleans up the pieces,


It was not our cup.

Juniper Tree

Upon the sun-beaten hills

In the hot and citric embrace of the wind

Under the benediction of the coyote who loves

—the moon

Sanctioned by the sage and the deer, a quiet

—people without judgement


There dwells the Juniper, Old and gnarled

Arms open in an embrace of the midnight sky

He reaches to the stars in prayer and reverence.

His soft and weathered lips, whispering without



Waiting for the stars to answer back

Waiting for deliverance and absolution


I will miss him, that sad old man who is



Lost in a world of which he is no longer a part and

yet still watches over


You see we are so much alike

My soul and I.


Someday, this will be mine

This cold salted slab

An extension of myself.

It will crack and freeze,

In the fall it’ll cover

With red and pale orange leaves

In the summer it’ll clutter

With mothers and stroller babies.


I’ll live in these suburban castles,

And kiss my wife goodnight—

A ritual of eightteen years

From our wedding night.

We’ll be fighting our heavy

Eyelids, about half past nine

We’ve got to get up early

We’ll be working nine to five.


I’ll carpet bare floor.

Fine art will cling to my walls.

And I’ll slide the deadbolt

To keep the outside out.

I’ll sit by the brick fire

Reading in its warm light

One of the countless volumes

That my towering bookcase stores.


I’ll be a family man.

I’ll leave bright blue bulbs

Along my fine French doors.

Like harbor reflections of moonlight,

They’ll stay long past the new year

Breaking away the dark night

From my red minivan


And its double sliding doors.

I’ll read to Steve

And ask him what he’ll be;

Then I’ll sing to Suzie

Before sending her to sleep.

I’ll wonder what they’re dreaming,

Their breathing steady and soft;

I’ll lose track of their sizes;

Lord, they used to be so small.


I’ll stand in the warmth behind

My double picture window,

Looking at what I’ve shoveled

A few hours before.

Remember leaning a shovel

On my hardy potbelly

And thinking to myself

“Why’d I do this for?”


And I’ll snap back to my window,

My study light casting a glow.

Then I’ll see him running;

Hooded head sprinkled with snow.

I’ll see his breath

Frozen life, rejoining air,

And I’ll wonder if he

Is the boy I used to be.

Trying Again… After Breakfast

I awoke… Caught within

the cleavage—

Of my two pillows.

Covering myself in a once sensual

Button-down shirt,

Which recently was deprived of its name—

I leave the room to stumble down the spiral staircase


Feeling a quick rush of pain from my bare feet

As I step to the sound of cracking silver corn chips

I notice the lipstick characters lining the railing—

And the crimson runes that decorate my collar

I can hear her humming to “Train” on the radio

Reaching the base of the stairs

I glance at her image on the couch,


My mind feels compressed with ideas

My stomach swells with pain

And my legs buckle with indecisiveness

For mind, stomach, legs, and I have been here before

I see—the sun through her hair

And on her skin

As well as the birthmark on her hip

Her fingertips feel like they are on my cheek

From across the room



She sits thinking, waiting—

For me to say something


For me to cry

For me to smile

For me to wait with her

For me to make breakfast


I am willing to try again… after breakfast