Spile (a poem)

Spile (a poem)


your reward and punishment

for my kindness, for my love

Your silence

spreads, acid creeping through my veins

quells the muse

binds my tongue

turns my words to ash

Your spile dug deep into my wood

honeyed spirit drained in great golden drops

spilled to the cold ground


like the blood of a too-young soldier

branches pale, leeched of life


grows like vines

webbing around me, a metal tomb

and I trapped within

my love for you

the melody

that plays on and on

drowning out your


How I Found the Rainbow (aka: Why I Write Poetry)

How I Found the Rainbow

Under the merciless sun they labored

heads bowed

bodies glistening with sweat

like drooping tulips slick with dew

they swallowed their whispers

and silenced their souls

and became as copper statues

surviving until the sky grew dark

but then

they opened their mouths and out came

the rainbow

and the rainbow danced

and the rainbow sang

and the rainbow could fly

like no one could fly

it gave them strength

and filled the sky

and now I know why

now I know why

I must write


Cómo encontré el arco iris

Bajo el sol implacable ellos trabajaron

cabezas inclinadas

cuerpos reluciente de sudor

como tulipanes marchitos húmedos de rocio

se tragaron sus susurros

y silenciaron sus almas

y se volvieron como estatuas de cobre

sobreviviendo hasta que el sol se oscureció

Pero luego

abrieron sus bocas

y salió el arco iris

y el arco iris bailó

y el arco iris cantó

y el arco iris podía volar

como nadie podía volar

se les dió fuerza

y llenó el cielo

Y ahora yo sé por qué

yo debo escribir