Respuesta al comentario de ANGIE CP

No me molesta. Yo hago lo mismo. En cuanto a tus observaciones, no se trata de un lapso de tiempo. Se trata de un cambio de sentimientos, de la insistencia en forzarse a recordar un amor perdido al recuerdo de un amor... si alguna vez lo fue realmente.

Myrtle Beach, Carolina del Sur
12 Agosto 2011





...

Terra

I will tread lightly and cherish the fertile soil beneath my bare feet. I will go down on one knee and reach down to tenderly caress the earth with the palm of my hand. I will lift it to my nose to inhale its essence. It is now part of me and will forever remain so. Only God can say if this holy ground is my promised land. Its scent lingers as I travel onward, gently calling like a timid bobwhite in spring. As the saliva starts to run inundating my tongue and teeth, I realize that I'm homesick and that it is calling me home.

11 August 2011
Myrtle Beach, South Carolina

La reprimida

There's so much to say.


So many feelings to feel.


I wish I could open up your heart and walk around, as if it were a museum or an office building after closing time to explore the unnoticed, unopened mop closets and the dusty back rooms where there are more spider's webs than memories.


11 August 2011
Myrtle Beach, South Carolina








...

Destiny, Freud and Zen

Even a blind nut finds a squirrel.

Burgess, South Carolina, USA
Freudian slip by Jeremy Poling?
12 June 2011




...

The Road to Catasauqua

Leaving the unremarkable restaurant, I face the leaden Pennsylvania sky.

It fills me with a pretty sadness.

One that I don’t want to let go of.

A sadness that I want to hold close to my chest like a dying child.

That I want to kiss on the forehead.

That I want to bathe in my tears until they overflow and drip from my white fingers.

But all that was a dream.

I look down; the child is there no longer.

It’s been dead and buried for months.

I look at the steel drops that fall to my hands, like mother’s milk, from the sooty storm clouds.

I watch them as they wipe away the last traces of the crust of white salt.

On the road from Bethlehem to Catasauqua, Pennsylvania, USA
14 June 2011 (translated from the Spanish)







...

Camino a Catasauqua

Al salir del restaurante mediocre, me enfrento al cielo de plomo de Pensilvania.

Me infunde una tristeza linda.

Una que no quiero soltar.

Una tristeza que quiero acurrucar en el pecho como una criatura moribunda.

Que quiero besar en la frente.

Que quiero bañar de lágrimas hasta rebosar, hasta que goteen de las puntas de mis blancos dedos.

Pero todo eso fue un sueño.

Miro hacia abajo; la criatura ya no está ahí.

Lleva meses de muerta y sepultada.

Miro las gotas de acero que caen en mis manos, cual leche materna, de los nubarrones de hollín.

Las contemplo mientras limpian el último vestigio de la costra de blanca sal.

De camino entre Bethlehem y Catasauqua, Pensilvania, EEUU

14 junio 2011

...

Muse

It takes but a spark to kindle the woodland of a creative mind into a blaze, a great forest fire. But not one which destroys the trees. Each rises again to stand Phoenix-like until the next spark of inspiration.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1998




...

Her

Across the room she speaks to me with her eyes
Her scent kisses the deepest part of my soul
She is the air I breathe, and a little part of me dies
When the sun sets in her eyes
And the little dove flies
And I have nothing to hold

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1998




...

Ants

Think about it. Millions of ants can work together to achieve a single purpose, and it's all two humans can do to do the same. Why? It may have something to do with the ant's self-image, or lack thereof. Soldier ants of South America have been known to ford rivers! Some of the ants, though, must give the ultimate sacrifice, their lives, so the group may find food. It is this lack of selfishness and alertness to the collective that helps ants to survive in a world of creatures much greater in size than themselves. In humans - the dominant species of that world - we see stuggles not only between countries, but between countrymen, and no less, between persons of the same heritage, of the same locality, and, at times, inside the family circle. Imagine how much different man's technological achievements might be if he were more ant-like. I'm not suggesting that we all become drones with one brain, but let's strive to have understanding, so that, as Solomon said, it can cool our anger. If we do thus and exude love and, as the ants, put the congregation - local and worldwide - and our brothers before ourselves on our priority list, we will have a little taste of what the coming new world will be like, and we will reap inner peace until that time.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1998




...

I whisper softly through the night of love, life, tears and fears. Whether they're what is noble and right, their morality is untold by years. For I sing an ancient song in a strong, young voice. Whether it beckons free or balks wrong, the fire goes from head to hand without a choice, exuding light and flame with both zeal and shame. Everyday I reach and touch our collective humanity and return to find I've lost my taste for sanity. My eyes grow stubborn and my pen grows rough. I've said a little piece; that ought to be enough.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1998





...

Eye of the Needle

Skeletons like walk-in closets.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1998




...

Obsession

If you were wine, I'd be drunk all the time. If you were the sea, I'd surely drown.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1998




...

Life

To look is one thing.
To see what you look at is another.
To understand what you see is a third.
To learn from what you understand is still something else.
To act on what you learn is all that matters.


Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1998

Fire and Money

Like fire, money itself if neither good nor evil. It is neutral. Its character is determined by the eye of the perceiver, the hand of the user.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1998




...

Love

Only true love knows when to let someone go, when give them wings so they can fly, and watch them ride the wind until they find themselves. Only the deepest love loves a person how they need to be loved when it's not how they want to be loved.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1998




...

The Man and the Bird

One Summer day, as he was walking in a park, a homeless man found a beautiful bird. It looked exotic, like something from the deep jungle. To his surprise and delight, this beautiful creature climbed right up and perched on his shoulder. "You must've escaped from someone's house," he says. The bird liked the man, even though he didn't have a house... or much else for that matter. The man prized this lovely little treasure he'd found and never let her out of his sight... well, maybe just once on the beach one night. Each day they got to be closer and closer friends. The bird would fly here or there and the man would follow. The man would go here or there and the bird would follow. There could never have been a better pair, perfect partners from the start. Then, the icy cold winds of Winter began to blow, that strange season of frozen loneliness and cold darkness that we all have to go through to reach the warm breezes and renewed freshness and energy of Spring. The bird was too young and could not wait out the Winter. It was born for the sunny days and warm ray of the Summer. But she couldn't leave her friend all alone. So, she tried to hang tough. Until one day, she couldn't keep going anymore. She fell nearly faint in the man's arms. She always felt so safe there. As the man saw the pain and cold in her eyes, he knew what he had to do. He said to her, "You'll never survive here. You aren't ready for the harsh Winter. You'll surely die. You go south for the Winter. Now fly! And return next year when you're strong and wise." The little bird refused. She swore she would never leave him. She would've rather stayed with him and died. But the man loved the bird more than she loved herself, more than anyone could love anything. There was only one thing he could do. He pushed the bird away and forced her to do what would save her life. The bird did fly and it did live on. The homeless man cried all Winter long and prayed constantly for the warm Spring breeze to bring his little bird back to his arms.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
To Deanna Herrera
2000




...

Where the Road Begins

If you are looking to your past to find happiness, you must find it and be happy.

If you are looking at the present to find happiness, you must find it and be happy.

If you are hoping in the future to find happiness, find it in the past and the present.

Happiness paves your walkway. But who notices the sidewalk until it's gone?

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1998




...

Denial

We smiled faintly like casual acquaintances to conceal our undying love.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1998

The Immortals

The wind blows the clouds across the ever-changing sky.
The sun sets; seasons change; great men die.
Little do the blind souls know that some who walk at their side,
Will linger on forever, perfect and prospering, as in the Earth they do reside.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1998




...

Reflection

There's nothing inspirational about quietude itself. It only clears the mind, sharpens the senses and tills the field of the inner mind we call imagination, the threshold of originality.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1998



...

After finding you, loving you
Nothing could separate me from you
Distance in miles, our busy lives
Everyday still our hearts grow closer together
Rays of love's light brighten our path forever
Seasons change; spring's blossom dies
Our love is no transitory thing
Natural, self-sustaining, never-ending

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1998




...

Note I Never Gave to Sarah

You are unique, one of a kind, a true original. I've never met anyone like you, known anyone like you, loved anyone like you. To tell you the truth, until you came into my life, I didn't know there could be someone like you. Someone who is perfect for me. Finding you, learning you, knowing you, loving you... It's been like starting life all over again for me, only better. Better because this time I have you by my side, and on my mind and in my heart. I wouldn't change a day, an hour, a moment of my life since you. And even if I could, I'd never change a thing about YOU! Because you are unique, my one and only original... my love!

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1997-1998




...

Night Haiku

The moon is reflecting the sun's glory with its smile.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1997-1998



...

Sky

Hypocritical cloud! With your beauty you disdain
The sun's glory by the coming rain

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1997-1998



...

Flippancy

You'll be dead for a long, long time.
You know you can't prevent it.
So, if money can't buy happiness,
I guess I'll have to rent it.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1997-1998



...

Amazonas

The sun's rays fall feebly at best
Upon the jungle lagoon
Over the canopy, the evening mist attests
Darkness will be coming soon

A pair of macaw settle in their nest
So elegantly formed, so well-dressed

Shades of blue
And yellow too
Along with the deepest maroon

We too as nature's guest
All have gone to rest
But the jaguar and the moon

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1997-1998




...

The Eye

There were a dozen or so flowers
On a tall rocky island off the shore
There were also tales of their powers
And ageless beauty in old folklore

They were high above the sea
Forever to be
In fog's melancholy mist veiled
And I say truly to thee
Of all men to see
None have their beauty beheld

Now peer through the clear eyes of a babe if you can
For the child is the father of the man

A world bathed in light and splashed in certainties we invent
And stare at foresaken miracles in innocent wonderment

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1997-1998




...

Smiles to Kisses

Smiles turn to words
Words turn to whispers
And whispers into kisses

The silent and simple call I headed
From the quiet and beautiful child
For words and phrases were not needed
She outspoke Shakespeare with her smile

When at last our tongues were undone
Forth words worthy of these pages did spill
Sweet stanzas one by one
Softly spoken then more quietly still

A tasteful melody we whispered amid the starlight
The whole earth in full eclipse
The Moon and Venus keep close company tonight
So do likewise our lips.

Thus the way love goeth in its blisses
Smiles turn to words
Words turn to whispers
And whispers into kisses

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1997-1998




...

Limerick

Old Lady Blue and a broken-down shoe.
Where is the love of my life?
She died long ago, or lives in Bordeaux,
Or is maybe another man's wife.

Response:

But, Sir, don't dispair. For you must be aware.
That love's way with troubles is rife.
You maid's waiting still, and she lives on a hill.
Leading a simpleton's life.

If this mate of your soul is not easily seen,
You won't find her unless your heart's vision is keen.
The love of one's life is not easily found.
But you'll know if it's she, if your judgement is sound.

Myrtle Beach and Conway, South Carolina, USA
1997-8




...

Flirtation

Remember how the curve of the back of her neck fit your hand? How she whispered in you ear? It was like a beautiful new language that nobody but you and God could understand.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
1997




...

Blue

Blue is the color of flight and pain and it wants to eat your soul and free the demon from the depths of the abyss and cloak its face in blackness. I remember the first summer day and the first summer girls frolicking at the edge of the water, their innocence warmed by the sun, their skin cooled with salty nectar and clinging light wool. The wet skin of her back glistened, like the moon reflecting the sun. She splashes her friend. She wishes she were as pretty as her friend, but somehow being near her makes her feel that some of her magic, some of her magnetism, will rub off on her. But, in the end, even if it never works, if she hangs around, she'll always have the chance to see her screw up, make stupid mistakes, and gasp for breath and rub her eyes with each splash.


Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
29 March 2011





...

La mar

Quisiera poder acostarme en los brazos del mar y dormirme tranquilo entre los esqueletos de ballenas, submarinos y serenas.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
29 March 2010





...

Writer's Block

Sprawling snowfield of a blank page. Should I jump in and play, snowtubing, snowangelling, snowboarding and snowmobiling? Or should I go home and warm myself contemplative by the fire with an old port and some chocolates? Or perhaps I should put some time into that pending project. The chill in the air doesn't keep me from craving a Longacre's Dairy milkshake.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
24 March 2011




...

J'accuse, je vous accuse tous

You are all servile sychophants and toadies.

Like so many politicians, priests and roadies.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
21 March 2011




...

Olvido

Agua fértil. Tierra fecunda. Chorros de un río invernal. ¿Dónde estás, Vida? Te metiste en un hoyo de infinito olvido para jamás volver a recordar. Te moriste ya, pero tu corazón terco no deja de latir.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
20 March 2011





...

Where

Where. Where is a word I feel the need to write, to ponder the sense of place of things, the terroir of life.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
13 October 2010





...

Morning

The morning opens up and swallows us whole like a snake swallowing its prey. Vanem est vobis ante lucem surgere.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
13 October 2010





...

Ignorance and Faith

As I stand on her skin, Earth spins and tilts like a top, like a plaything of the gods. In all honesty, I'm oblivious to this fact. I'm like an ant who's lived his entire life in the middle of a little river island and who's never seen the water. I could easily be persuaded to believe that there is no river at all, based on my observations. I could as easily be convinced that the river that bathes my home is one of fire or stardust or simply nothingness. Many conclusions require a measure of faith in something.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
12 October 2010




...

Grand Strand Summer Dawn

When the lights go out on the Boulevard and the last poor drunken soul makes his way over to his shack on The Hill, when the last trust fund baby crushes out the night's last roach and sneaks into his bedroom window in The Dunes Club, and when the last Mexican leaves the discoteca and carefully meanders to his trailer off Highway 15... 

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
9 October 2010




...

Timeplay à la GGM

Thirty years later, when the doctor give him the bad news, glutton and chain smoker Aaron Deets would remember the long-ago morning when he and his parents first went to feed the horses.

Several weeks afterward, in the torturer's chair and minus one molar and two phalanges, Martin Breed would travel back to a better time: the first time he made love to a woman.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
7 October 2010




...

Vista

Where the first rays of light hit the building, an inky black watertower floats up. The silhouette is probably more real than the original, at least in the early morning. The crispness of its sable outline against the red clay bricks seems sharp enough to cut the beams of sunlight filtering through the last wispy night clouds. The original is blurring. No one in the building can read where it says, "City of Myrtle Beach". No one can stand to look at it for more than a glance ― with our fiery star behind it ― and thus can't make out its true shape. But there's the shadow. There's always the faithful shadow.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA

6 October 2010




...

Stone

She placed the stone in her mouth. It had a salty, mineral flavor. She let it drop into her hand and rubbed the wet surface with the fingers of the other.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
5 October 2010




...

Springmaid Beach Haiku

I jumped barefoot into the driver's seat of my old jeep. Sand on feet. Rusty floorboards.


Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
4 October 2010








...

Car Smell

My car smells faintly of fishbait I've carried from fishing spot to fishing spot up and down the Grand Strand, and like the crumbs of a thousand Chick-fil-A biscuits ― jumpers that escaped immediate destruction only to touch down in the oblivion below. It smells like the residue of a thousand different farts mixed with leather, sweat, oil and cheap cologne.


Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA

4 October 2010




...

Kiss

Her breath smelled as smooth and pure as porcelain and her moist lips glimmered like new fallen rain on the grass.


Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
4 October 2010






...

All Saints' Parish

I come from a place of steamy blackwater swamps, of colonial sentinels with Spanish moss hanging from every bow, of bikinis, of sugar sand beaches and palm trees. A place where a man is as good as his word... unless he's sly enough to convince you otherwise. A land that's allergic to industry, that was once one of the richest colonies in the King's crown and that was later one of the wealthiest states of the first American union because of agricultural labor performed on the backs of and thanks to the technical genius of black African bondsmen.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
29 September 2010





...

The Pier

Water feels like thick air with watercolor spots of fish and things. Some crawl, some fly. A shark is the kind of this realm, and the janitor too. He could eat just about anything he took a mind to dine on. But he's a lazy fellow and can only be bothered to clean up the scraps that he doesn't have to work for.

I tilted my rod so as to pass through the doorway out to the pier. Dragging my fishcart and my reluctant companion behind me, I moved toward the action.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
27 September 2010 (The Mullet Running)





...

Fear

In the middle of the night I walked down the wet, black pavement of Lombardi street to the chaos down below. When the bombs fell, no one knew the name of the enemy. They didn't know his agenda. The knew nothing, in fact, but the gnawing, screeching, frantic rodent in their chests ― fear. Fear is an unstable thing in the heart of a man. He'll jump through a hoop of fire to get away from it, to get out of it. A man would dig and claw at his own chest to pull it out. Like a polar bear on drift ice, he would brave the deep, but only after he's far enough from solid ground to be afraid.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
26 September 2010




...

Harvest Evening

It was a Wednesday evening - October 10th as I recall - and every soul in nature was at rest. The autumn leaves shone through the dark twilight mist like so many little lighthouses. The harvest moonlight besilvered the world. Not a cloud in sight. Nary an unveiled star.

Old Zionsville, Pennsylvania, USA
5 November 2009




...

Timing

Catch the flavor of the moment and hold it in your hands and let it go. Let it go when the time's right.

Old Zionsville, Pennsylvania, USA
16 October 2009




...

Pacific

My grandfather was a reluctant sailor conscripted toward the end of the Second World War to serve in the Pacific theater. Ironic. Pacific: from the Latin, "peaceful". I wonder how many enlisted men, like him, realized this profound paradox. Two western peaces imposed on an eastern sea. There was plenty of infamy to spread around. Mr. Roosevelt knew it. Agitprop at its finest.

Old Zionsville, Pennsylvania, USA
15 October 2009




...

Fall

The leaves are turning early this year. We admire their short-lived beauty with heavy hearts and anxious hands. The worst is yet to come, and it promises nothing, no hope of escape or renewal, only the slow quicksand of the Fall. Why must we fight? How do we hurt each other? Insatisfaction is our worst enemy. Where do the leaves go when they fall? Through the window the rabbits and squirrels horde and gorge, as do we, in this spiraling dance of desperation. When the marten flys north and the mockingbird sings, we'll awake and think it all some sad, strange fairly tale.

Old Zionsville, Pennsylvania, USA
14 October 2009





...

Widow

She sat in the same house in Pennsylvania with Virginia columns were, 50 years before, he brought her on their snowy wedding night. A mockingbird on the fir tree out front whistles the same notes he tried years in vain to imitate. He lies out back beneath the wildflowers in the field he once plowed, victim of his own betrayal, in an unmarked grave.

Old Zionsville, Pennsylvania, USA
12 October 2009





...

Now

The great mystery surrounding us... coincidence, fate, chance... all the forces and colors of nature have conspired to bring us to this moment.


Old Zionsville, Pennsylvania, USA
12 October 2009





...

Rubicon

Each frontier is like another Janus. Part of me looks back in fond memory tinged with regret and the rest looks forward with hope and dutiful attention to the lessons learned and those to be learned.

9 October 2009
Old Zionsville, PA, USA

The First Snowfall

Wherever the last beautiful day in Eden went is where the antelope played in the jaws of the serpent. The red bird lighted on the orb and poisoned the waters and visited death upon the serpent and its seed and told us to get the heck outta Dodge because the hour is near, and it is here, when the snow will fall on the reluctant grass eager to stem the tide of green, waiting, hoping soon to blanket the land with icy dew.


9 October 2009
Old Zionsville, PA, USA







. . .

Linguistics and Space Travel

A word is an ephemeral thing. Just a certain combination of gurglings in the right order, sung with the proper melody. Like so many tweets of a talented mockingbird. But a word can raze a wall; it can destroy a city. It can make a man leave his family, climb up on top of 20 tons of flammable, putrified dinosaur, and ride the modern beast with the ancient diet requirements to another world. It can keep a man silent who's being pressed to death. It can make anything. It can destroy anything.

8 September 2009
Old Zionsville, PA, USA

















. . .

Storm

Green is the light that falls from heaven and black the thunder that hums; lightning is minty crisp at its climax.

8 September 2009
Old Zionsville, PA, USA

















. . .

Where did the Day Go?

Yellow is the colour of rain in winter and cold it falls, first on your lips, then your tongue. Where did the day go? Forever squirreled away to the dusty closet of near-forgetfullness.


8 September 2009
Old Zionsville, PA, USA

















. . .

Her Eyes Were Blue

Her eyes were blue, like the sky the day after a storm, limpid and see-through, like she had nothing to hide. But her mouth told a different story.


7 September 2009
Old Zionsville, PA, USA

















. . .