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that look, again
mea culpa
my pyre
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Teaching is An Act of Love
I Can See
flechas al futuro
At Dusk

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Love illogix

A Sense less Heart

Is Equal to a Thought

the only way i can ‘know’ my feelings,

is to feel my feelings!

i am moving forward in my path


there is no distance

between here and there.

changing the ‘organ’ for those

impulses and feelings,

has to be a ‘fall'

from the restrictions of the mind,

housed and contained in the brain,

for a heart that is beating,




love is an endless ‘flight'

into the depths of light.

wings open to catch weightless,



alive with self awareness

without knowledge...

because the mind

would have you believe

there is a sequence

of words 

or a description,

that has a period at the end of it,

for the feelings that change

like the winds 

and breezes flowing 

between the molecules of love

have no other name,

no direction 

to go


come from.

what is the distance between

thoughts and feelings?

the challenges of being a human being,

thinking i’m better than the other beings,

that didn’t pass the thinking test…

that wouldn’t pass the feeling test

because they would have had to

think about it.




a war on racism

would a leader dare

to declare war on racism?

where are the volunteers?

will there need to be a draft?

how will there even be sides?

what terms

will couch the lies

that will convince the ignorant

leave the dormant sleeping

that the lie is just


and worth dying for?


what separates us

when there are no more middles?

haves versus haves not?,

got versus getting got?

ousted versus gentrified?

thems that’s thriving


thems that’s surviving?

a runaway capitalist dream 


a tsunami socialist nightmare?


who will be the patriots

in the war against racism?

are we the ones

they’ve been hoarding

their ‘right to bear’ arms for?

will there be insurgents?

will refugees find a haven

in their home?

or will refugees

become rebels

that become terrorists

whose cause is to disrupt

the status quo of the other?

how will you talk

with the veterans

that defended the losers?


all of us are tainted by difference.

none of us is the same.

even as twins 

we are still different.

it will come down

to a war on racism

not between

Black or white,

but between

the human race and

an inhuman race.



the irony is that nature 

will continue to be bella

whether we see her

or not!

whether we are 

moved to tears,

or not!


she is ambivalent 

to her beauty and glory,

while we are humbled

by her presence

aún su auséncia.


she will still bless flowers

with their scent

whether our noses

catch a whiff on the wind,


notice the breeze

with a hint of...

¿'qué sé yo?'


she will share her blues

with the sky

from the darkest 

midnight blue 

to the still blue 

translucent waters 

at the end of a wave.


the miracle,

that we notice

that we are allowed 

to witness gaiamundo

in all her minute splendor,

is the small blessing


the solitude 

of this quarantine

has inspired visions

of how it could be

if we got out 

of our own way.


At Dusk

the murmurings of the neighborhood…

listening to ‘una bulla’,

a cacophony of sounds,



silverware against empty plates,

the sound of content, 

full bellies...

the same chattering sparrows

recounting their day

like no one is listening,

only chirping,

barking like dogs

at the setting sun.

what languages

are we speaking?







en inglés?

all in spanish?

no matter!

the earth knows only,

that it's time for the stars,

to have their say.


listening to

a conversation

between snakes,

intertwining slither

making distance from guiliani

“mr president,

what is the name of this guy in the photo

shaking your hand?”

'i don’t know. i shake a lot of hands!’

“mr president,

this guy says he has dirt

on the corruption

you asked for the ukraine

to investigate,

“i don’t know!

no quid pro quo!

wasn’t that a ‘perfect call?

i don’t know!"

ask rudy

the warrior?

i dont know

ask michael

feeling like rudy

being thrown under the bus...

the president

my client

would never do anything like that,


i have insurance,


the face of his iPhone

like a hand grenade

with the firing pin removed.

all those within hearing range

were not listening

and all those listening

could not believe

what they were hearing.

in the the nuclear explosion,

covering one’s ass

will be the charlatan’s defense.

not even a speed bump

on the road to the gallows



are like the


drawn across galaxies

like the


posing in space

like the


described in mythology

across generations of humanity.


when i close my eyes

it is not blocking out light 

making me believe dark

my inner vision

behind closed eyelids

sees light a different way

all perceptions

are distorted realities

when seen 

from different perspectives.


though red horizons

portend toxic atmospheres

like dusk transforms

day to night

outer light

filtered through closed eyelids

shines brilliance

flowing away like sheets 

billowing in my heart’s 

exhalation of love.


closed eyelids

transform me 

stardust awake, 

to the universe 

my innerverse.

a shaky balance

between nows.



islands are lonely

islands are lonely 

because they don't

know how to swim

waiting on a ferry

better build a bridge.

fill the ocean with lava

wait for the seas to dry up

learn to love alone


las islas están solas

porque no saben nadar

esperando una lancha

construyen un puente

llenar el océano con lava

esperan para que 

los mares se sequen

aprenda a amar solo


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