don't cry
i don't want you to cry
because your tears are not like mine
they are heavy
and they sink into
the floor
running through the pipes
and flowing out the
sink of the second-floor
bathroom
where the little girl is brushing
her teeth in a pink
nightgown
and her ratty blonde hair
slinks down her shoulders as
she bares her fangs
to glare at the
mirror

ferry

(one word)
the ferry is going across the
grey
and i can see the man in the red pin-striped suit
tipping the brim of his hat
up to the fog
leaning on his worn cane
with the tree limbs dancing over him
and the heavy moss fingers
reaching
reaching
reaching
to touch his shoulders
and brush that magenta ribbon
the waters part as the boat
glides on

small bad-ish old one word poems

(old one word posts from over a year ago that are pretty bad but kind of nice)

statement

Say what you mean, mean what you say.
Practice what you preach, preach what you practice. 
Tell what you know, know what you tell. 
State what you see, see what you state.

---------

Cabinet

I keep my thoughts in drawers. Each idea, every separate plan, showcased in its own wood prism. Though sometimes my cabinet grows messy, and with it my mind.

--------

losses

We all lose things. Isn’t it exasperating? That sinking feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you realise you can’t find something important where you left it. That self hatred at your stupidity. I’d rather find.

-------

living (sorry this one was apparently from one of my dark times)

how ironic, this is my biggest problem nowadays, the thing i’m most scared of.
the thing my grandmother has had to write me a three paged email about.
the thing i’m trying to understand,
but isn’t it that way for us all?
we all try so hard

------

Gum. 
sticky, 
stretching. 
The joy in the forbidden chewing in classes. 
The fold of 
your tongue as you slip it under 
hiding from authority. 
that rush from the rebellion, 
the disobeying. 

Savor it.

---------

patient

be patient.
you’ll grow.
your heart will come to know things that
it never knew before
you eyes will come to see the world
in a way you never have
your mind will expand its boundaries
to reach the endless shore

---------

withered

i have withered
i am an old leaf
an old song
long gone
long forgotten

a memory that has fallen
quietly to the ground and now lays
crunched under the feet of school children

-----------

 wilting

wilting slowly
the summer is over
and my need for sun
and mindless deeds
and tans and ice creams
is not quenched
but time is running out
i have not been watered
and im tilting
slilting
lilting
sliding
tipping
turning
bending
wilting

Pupil

(one word)

pupil
pew pell
am i your pupil?
or am i the teacher?
and you are the student
as i instruct you with my eyes
and you wrinkle your nose
and raise you eyebrows
squiggly
i don’t answer questions
until i’ve finished the lecture

are you the teacher or am i
when my words
are slow and measured
out on balances
and yours tumble
down
like
waterfalls

copy
do you copy
do you read
do you read me
like a book
nuzzled up in the corner
on a cold night
do you know me
can you touch me
and i will not flinch
are you that
close to me
(that boundary is bigger
than you know if you
think about it
really)
have you crossed it?

frustration

some days i cry
anything can set me off
and i don't know why

maybe its just the teenage existence

are we okay?
yes.
but are we really?
is it okay that
when we sleep it's
with
our eyes open
not closed
is it okay
that when we
whisper our words are slurred
and flowing
and when we look
we only see what we want to
is it okay that we are
shadows and our smiles
are fleeting
that we are never solid
always blurry
undefined
is it okay that we
are never ever on
time because we cannot
bring ourselves
to move

I am from

     the place where you say how-do-you-do with
pinky fingers up sitting on a beach chair and your
toes are in the sand, digging, digging
          always digging
          for
          the green and the leaves swirling around in
the early house of the morning when i went to pick the flowers to
press out their color into bottles
            bottles
            bottled up in this space between
            two fingers never touch
            no matter how hard you push them
together while people shout your name
    to come downstairs for the platanos
       the mangu my brother devours
      and i mix around on my plate
             circling
           the world
    on a spin-cycle dryer
     the colors are wrung
           together
  what will they become
              but,
       a grey tint of the
       airplane seats in
    front of me as the river rushes through my ear
and the girl across the room drinks from the plastic capped
                   bottle
       the sun rose behind the mountain
            every day that i was born
        and the origami paper cranes
        my little fingers folded flew by
         for want of not
        knowing how to cope
        how to see what
        was beyond my
     reach-ing for the
  highest book on the shelf
  teetering on my toes
     to peek outside the wind
  and jump onto the roof
  sliding down the syllables
      of my name
with the words
    echoing in my ears
   and the notes in front
      of me
     blending
    into a sound
    i know i'll never reach
 even though I
   grasp
my efforts aren't
  devalued
by my trying
      try
      try
    try to
 understand
  the smile
that flickers
 across her
 lips when she
catches my eye
the silent third grade conversations
we could have
by banging on the lunch table

gaunt drawn cheeks.
open to the world
and not the hallowed out
white light
of the computer screen

long black lines
shadow all the eyes
makes sure they do sleep
above the night

the things i hide from you
you shouldn't seek
cause they're lingering behind the kitchen door
waiting for you to leave
and check another room
waiting for you to give up
and stop searching
hoping you won't see the dirty footsteps on the floor
and understand
what's come to be

Distress

(old poem that never got published)

i am a damsel in distress

rescue me

come on

prince charming

i’m waiting

at the bodega around the corner

but where are you?

smoking a cigarette in the park

sweating in the night with your arm around another

girl

your tongue down her throat

fingers in her hair,

walking alongside me

but not seeing

even though you’re looking me in the eye

not seeing 

my pain-

as clearly as you should

not hearing

my plea 

as loudly as you could

(put down your lighter
and listen up) 
cause I am the damsel in distress
the girl that's

crying help me

help me, i’m a mess

i don't know what to change-
it's never like this-
because the words just rearrange in my mind
dancing off my fingers
twirled across the page
bending and dipping
and falling
into place

DISPUTE

my words and my being

i will not fight you,

you

with your

tainted lines

and eyes

that accuse me

of wrongs

slowly ticking
over over
back forth
my skin
is itching
crawling
with your breath
your words
i'm brushing them off
but they
stick to me
like magnets
north south pulling
opposite poles

fragments of thoughts

Math does not define life.

            less less less less less
            more more more more
            more.
            where are you
            to balance me out

---------------------------
it'll make more sense then
when we know so much more
but have lost what we were

(a poem going through my schedule)

When I saw you walking, I stopped, empty. Empty of words, of feelings, my matter was not conserved. I did not find the x's or the intercept where our lines crossed, I did not set you equal to zero, though I should've. I did not observe for pathetic fallacy to see if the world was mirroring my hurt, my anger. How could the weather mirror such confusion? It would be on the news for days. No, I just stood petrified like the horror shocked faces of the people in Pompeii. Realizing all they had thought mattered would be gone in seconds. Nada, ni segundos.

it's annoying
i wanted to
not complicate things
stop complicating things
you see
i'm flattered
but you
should
have told me

(poetry exercise from a workshop, had to follow a formula)

what am I fishing for
my line is only so long
my warning so loud
there are only so many words
i can understand

dingy and worn
subways have passed
the tall yellow letters
on dark orange nights
the barge tugged along through the grey-
blue the driver sitting there pushing, and
holding his breath

yellow turns to green
and the future is dripping
off the fingers
brown and bare
crumple it all up in a gum wrapper
the print maroon
the meaning empty

untitled (old poem that never got published)

today
i went to go find you
and when i did
i realized the reason for your
stolen words

and that reason was not me
it was her and she
and i jumped back a little in my mind
and gasped
oh.

(for the rest of the night
i tried to avoid you
courtesy told me to avoid you
intelligence begged me to ignore you
but try as i might
my boredom yearned
to
interrupt)