Saturday, April 24, 2010


dear friends and readers,

my blogging has not come to an end
- but instead grown -
and is in search of other (new) galaxies

blogspot and i love each other dearly
clearly its me and not  him ect.

i begin my new relationship
and further space travels
in a new planet in cyberspace named :

"Yesika Starr - Astronaut Dare Devil"

hope we continue our torrid love affair there.
i love you. friends. readers. little martians of mine.

i will not delete this blog so that it may remain as a reminder of how sweet individual beginnings can be.


Thursday, April 1, 2010

Green Mango Kinda Love

your smile
hesitant like
the sunrise
reluctant like skies
forced to break
to the coming light.
a healing bruise
spread magnificently
over the horizon.

I do not call you by name
instead I seek the familiar ache
the slight twinge of muscles
the sore thought of your face

this is our language

it is tongues
who speak
like arriving
everything is breaking
but you are always
so fucken beautiful
beneath all this light


swinging on a mango tree
skin like burnt sugar canes
hands of marañón
jocote seeds for eyes
singing your song
of volcanoes and oceans
of men who sprouted machetes for limbs
of mothers whose spines coil
like wisps of steam
rising from
pots of boiling beans

you smell like
breath inhaled too deep
like tears soaked into
flor de izote petals

what if I told you
I’ve loved you from the womb,
spoke you as my first word,
remembered you
before we even met?

sonrie my mother said

smile because this will be sent back home
stand up straight
so they can see
how proud you are
that anyone else
because there is a place
in our memory
that demands that we do

it is dirt roads
and cows
with lovers eyes
it is banana tree leaves,
gently wrapped tamales,
pupusa vendors,
women with no teeth
and stained aprons
who laugh
as if
was something
the years give you.

it is boys with shoes
so polished you see
the clouds in them,
unbuttoned shirts
because sun
has a way of
peeling off clothes,
rickety pick up trucks,
baskets carried on heads,
naked babies
sucking on
the greenest
you have ever seen.

this is how
how I love you
by the swing
of the hammocks
in your breeze,
adobe wall houses,
red clay tiles,
tin roofs
and brown faces
so beautiful
I stop looking
For the moon
And start searching
For another smile.

It is being so poor
an egg is a luxury
but a stranger at your door
means a banquet
means your last bits of coffee
means your best chair
and coolest corner of your corridor

it is my fathers weather beaten face
staring from the windows of every bus
it is his laughter being peeled
from the branches of the highest
mango trees

es todo lo que se
lo soy
lo fui

my fingertips
the lump in my throat
a silence only god knows

and I love you

this heartbeat

El Salvador

a bruise I hope never heals.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Chinaski's Love Jones

Darling cut me – wide and open
I want your fingernails to touch my bones
Strum a chord with my veins,
Kiss the black and wrinkled organs.

Know me,
Like Christ, my mother
and the Creditors
Learn that
The yellow of teeth and eyes
Are the color of the stars I’d
Sling down for you

I do not sleep
Writing a thousand poems
You will not see

About the way your hair looks
In this dirty light
And how cars honking
remind me of when I first held your hand

we were crossing the light
and you squeezed my fingers
so that one was spilling into the other

and I thought
how nice

if only things
were that simple
for us two.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

10 Reasons Why You Are Not Allowed In My Bed Anymore

I grew tired of tying my shadow to your heel
before you disappeared through my window.

Orgasms feel so much better
with direct eye contact

I learned that you sacrificed nothing
by putting up with my weight
but I was the martyr for dealing with your
Dorito’s and stale cigarette breath

there are more positions than doggy style

you never read
the love notes
tucked into
my flesh

I am not in the habit of sleeping with men I do not know
and nine years into this carnal complicity
you no longer are the smiling boy I once adored.

if I wanted to feel like
I gave everything I had to someone who
did not know what to do with it
I would go to Church more often.

I am the moon and you forgot to act accordingly

the last time I held you I thought of jelly fish

I love your memory too much to allow you to soil it.
please stop knocking on my window late nights

I am the moon

I am full.

No thank you

I have had enough.