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Wednesday, November 17, 2010


Dear Reader,  I write you with singed feathers
the same that give me sweet courage and faith
to withstand the force that burns the Phoenix
y el Condor pasa past my window.

Me como mis siete semillitas
de granada para sobrevivir
en este infierno. Mientras aguanto
y espero a mi mama mi diosa,

la Cereza. I wander back and forth
wringing my two hands unable to squelch
the flames that burn into a hellfire
surrounded by the demons and gorgons,

rapists of virgins, spillers of petals.
I cry for me and I cry for my flowers.

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