24 July, 2011

Things that Inka does to Make up for Keeping Me up at Night:

Sitting still,
nursing sleep
cultivating memory.

Yelling loud,
aiding tempers
fabricating stress.

Hugging tight,
nurturing organs
instigating glee.

Bathing strong,
splashing liquid
raising Hell.

Smiling pure,
lifting spirits
cleansing souls.

Growing large,
creating mass
exposing time.

19 July, 2011

Six Simple Machines Attempt to Map Out Human Love

The screw converts a rotational motion
into one that is linear, and can do
the same with both types of forces.

With this torque and change in force,
the screw can connect two sentient beings,
abruptly halting independence and mobility.

The lever is a rigid object
used with a fulcrum to multiply
the resistance and application of force, distance, and speed.

Two lovers, screwed together,
manage painfully to balance out
each other’s weight with pivot points and effort.

The inclined plane minimizes
the force required to move an object
by increasing distance traveled by the object.

Without help, the work needed to
reach understanding and patience cannot be completed;
love and kinetic energy are wasted.

The wheel and axle’s movements
are coupled when one part is
turned (multiplying force or distance).

Without one another, formerly
independent energies no longer seem
capable of careful, logical locomotion.

The wedge is used to separate two objects,
or lift an object, or also hold it in place
by converting force with its own perpendicular state.

One’s own potential energy is blocked,
crashing into itself, causing brutal, anxious separation
without proper calculations.

The pulley is used to
change the direction of a force or
realize mechanical advantage, rotationally.

The relation of one to another is dependent on
space, weight, intent and balance.
They often cannot stay level, and may hang incongruously.

Taco Dinner

Somersaulting over
Summer’s ancient glow,
the heaviness of the evening
buries itself into stomachs, empty.

They walk parallel, down a quiet walk,
surprised by the ease and comfort
that they find in each other’s
swaying limbs, to and fro.

Both are conscious but unaware
of this ease, as it engulfs them entirely,
just like the bewitching heat
in the middle of the year.


Sitting on a sticky bench
in sticky clothes
with sticky memories,

we coo and coddle and
scold each other’s emotions
sticking to the air and bench and clothes.

Sitting in a stormy house
with stormy tears
and stormy shouts,

we break each other’s
will by overexposing
the very sinews of our friendship.

Sitting in a grassy field
with grassy thoughts
in grassy dreams,

we manage to feel and hug and kiss
all our potential shared
by fading in and out of youthful light.


I broke one of her arms the other day
and tried to stick it back on.
It sits there drooping, ashamed to be around
all the other unbroken arms.

She is politely quiet and has not
complained yet but I can tell she is
sort of angry and frustrated and
probably in a good amount of pain.

She still looks beautiful, with good posture
and full, unending curves.
Photosynthesis makes her vibrant and brave;
her figure remains maimed while her spirit screams.

16 July, 2011

El Pasado

El Pasado grita, llora, canta.
Riéndose con amargura y cansancio,
tiene el problema de memoria e historia.

El Pasado contiene:
Todo lo que pudo haber pasado
Y todo lo que no paso.

El Pasado, sin novedades,
puede solucionar todo con el sueño
de lo ideal.

El Pasado representa:
Todas las fortunas del amor
Y las pasiones de la decepción.


There are many societies on Earth throughout time
that have mercilessly and viciously searched for whales to kill.

Some use bayonets and clubs and harpoons
as well as the captured wind on sails on boats.

These whales are imprisoned, stolen from Poseidon’s arms,
bent and oiled and hammered into glues, fuels, foods.

Literature is written, songs are danced, poems are rehearsed,
all for the attempt at a useful and appropriate eulogy.

These mammalian beasts comb the seas for infinitesimal food,
trapped on a globe far too small for their crashing tails.

Gentle, buoyant and tectonic,
they sleep in the histories of all our woven ancient stories.

Jose Jose

The words that combine
in order to find other words
that more politely explain
harmonic melody,
do little to enlighten
the feelings that enter
late at night
and leave too early
in the morning
to define, reject, classify.


Pure terror
runs off of my skin and onto the floor
scuttling across the hard surface with force and gleam.

Without courage,
only toxicity is left in order to battle
the paralytic fear that causes breathlessness and woe.

Ugly creatures
that barely belong on this planet
preserve their shape as they enter deaths.