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My first poem
ever
learned
by heart
Never to be forgotten
even if,
now and then,
I simply wish
I hadn't,
I still pray
I could.

Vampiric Embargo

Distorted

beyond recognition

some crimson delusions

go through life

not knowing

to sum up everything

unless

subtracted and divided

only to be multiplied

by an evil alter ego.

More faithful

than the pale shadows

left a few steps behind

we create lasting

memories

within touch

only

to prove

to one’s memory

that feeling left out

when into this world

is no tragedy.

Lynched
by former spells of dew

a mild tempest of stigmas

takes over my atlas.

In the same spirit,

full of horrid enigmas

inseparable from self-consumption,

most revelations

are rooted in two hearts.

Ravaged by the willfulness

of freezing cold

burning cheeks
are eventually embraced

and loved

by the  quiet thieves
that we are,

guilty of arson
and forswearing afterwards.

Q.E.D.and all 
we keep running and running

away from a bloody mess

while in our own heart
we rehearse

coming back for less.

Blind Tasting

I love you. And why shouldn’t I?

You silence me and

color me in this tornado

of aromas

and when at it

you also quench my twirling soul.

I may not be much

to offer,

I may not be a blessing

in disguise

but I do care
more than those morsels of regret

we ingest at dawn

and the crumbs of temptation

locked in my hair.

No waste of words,

No sacrifice too painful

to be borne,

no demons

to feed

on our living flesh and bones.

Sanguine echoes

in this cup’s warmth,

on this square marble table
we are born.

Again.
And again.
And again.

Innumerable anticipation sighs
around us,

Dry lips redeem our sobbing

and our vintages

in front of a teary east wind.

Out-of-sight, never in vain,

we mirror our own reflection

behind a thirsty blackout

keeping us quietly in love.

Countdown

One morning,

I drew a hopscotch design

on the floor in my room.

I was alone,

I could make up my own rules

so each square

was going to be another day

away from you.

Two or three times in a row

- my feet can be clumsy, I know-

I stepped on the thin line

and I would also hop

the wrong square now and then

to challenge the odds

and increase the speed of time.

The game may be useless

and I’m no longer a child

but turning around

would regain me balance

and restore an innocence smile.

Catchers in the Tide

Life happens inside me

As it does inside you

instead of pearl oysters

we are chasing together

the echoes

of startled silhouettes

evicted from memory.

Not all birds fly south

in winter

Not all men tiptoe

in the presence of God.

My fingertips breathe,

A soft stillness

marries the humility

of my prayers

as I kneel down

on the white silk

to succumb to your visions.

Let’s bide here,

I’ll tell you as much or as little

You are my south and my prayers

The spirited pathway

leading my footsteps

to a golden shield.