They said I was dead, the poor ocotillo who’s left out to dry,

Silent, like hair on the head of someone long gone,

silent,

brown like the lack of birds coming to feed from my flowers that lay dormant waiting for rain

A dead shrub, I am not

Silent hair off men that don’t look twice, I am not

I wait, I wait, I wait.

For the gray clouds to roll ( Read more... )

I was 16. Her name was Christina and she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I'd sneak glances at her during first period and bask in her glow. She pulled me in a way I never felt with my other crushes on guys that required more mental and emotional energy to keep up - this was quiet, soft, like a bubbling brook behind a cottage on a ( Read more... )

The sand feels coarse against the webbing of my toes. The sky is cloudy, a blanket of grey. The breeze feels harsh against my cheeks. I stare at the steel ocean, at the choppy waves that threaten to pull me in. This is not the beach of the magazines. The one you come to on vacation. This is a beach of solitude, the one you come to because the ( Read more... )

I am 8.
I am 19.
I am 20.
I am 29.

The world has swallowed me whole.

I stare at the pin point of light above me, at the only break from the internal abyss. This is not a poem about pain.

It is about the sea salt that paints my dried vocal cords like miniature grapes on withered vines.

I tell myself I'm not a writer, that my writing is too literal ( Read more... )

Facts about hurricanes:

- The air buzzes with a tangy mix of excitement and anticipation dabbed with fear the closer the storm gets. Finally, something to talk about with the neighbors who stick to themselves until there's neighborhood drama or a hurricane warning.

- Most of the time, hurricanes mean sticky, humid heat days after the hit, when you' ( Read more... )

I laid on wood floor panels the night I was assaulted. I was 20 and I was sunshine.

The whorls in the wood dug themselves into my skin like a permanent tattoo, just under the surface, a wooden microchip, splinters I can't pull out. One on my breast and one on the back of my thigh that he grabbed while he pushed into me.

The dark wood warps around ( Read more... )

Sometimes I feel like my unique voice gets lost and it's fucking annoying. Que pendejada. But what if others can't understand me, what if my spoken Spanglish muddles in my mouth and comes out mushed like the Spanish that leaves my lips when I try to speak to a fluent speaker, the ephemeral words leaving my brain and rendering the remains jam?

I ( Read more... )

You show me a new, old website.
Now defunct but brand new, twenty new tabs added to the Chrome window
The forest of links enveloping me in the soft blue glow of the laptop

My heart moves faster than the arrow

Doors opening and opening and opening and...

I sit with myself and try to trace the beauty marks on my skin

I enter gilded doors you're opening ( Read more... )

The Fool is the first card of the deck,

implying: be free,

implying: run around in fields of wildflowers and let yourself bloom,

implying: no need to worry about what's in the ravine below the cliff because you've got wings, bay-bee

I stand in the kitchen in bare feet with a tea towel on my shoulder;
I once heard chefs do that.

What did the recipe say again?