Bolivar and San Martin: Guayaquil, Ecuador

Saturday, July 26, 2008

My Death

My heart will slide down and die
on a day that many will remember.
They will recall the moment of my passing
With joy or sorrow
without ever thinking of me.

Their minds will leap to secret pleasures
or secret pains,
the mysteries they encountered
as I explored the mystery of death.

The World Around Me

The world around me hides itself,
it speaks in tongues I cannot understand.
There was something about a war,
still more about a profit margin,
But I could not be certain since
the voices gurgle in incomprehensible tones
that I cannot understand.

The world around me moves as though
it strives to remodel the meaning of haste.
The only speeds are quick, fast, and hurry,
and a moment to ponder why you are moving
is the greatest blasphemy of all.

The people who inhabit the world around me
are pround, profitable, and poised.
They are excited about making everyone envious and then
They thump their chests and gurgle about progress.

It's true, the human spirit lies closer
to the razor than ever before.

Monday, July 21, 2008


El silencio regresa
como bruma cubriendo
mi vida.

Me esfuerzo los ojos
para ver lo que
me espera
en la distancia,
pero la unica cosa
que observo
es el toque suave
de niebla sobre
los parpados.

Quizas no quiero
enterarme con el porvenir.
Quizas, desgraciadamente,
sea la misma fisura
de soledad que he conocido
todo mi vida.

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

This Moment

My art of remembrance declines
until all I can summon
is this moment:
the thirty-seventh heartbeat
of the fourteenth minute
of the sixteenth hour of the day.

Afternoon silence rolls
through the trees.
Somewhere, I assume,
a child is laughing,
and somewhere else a child
cries out in pain.

This moment is the
end result of everything
I cannot now remember,
and the culmination of every word
that has bloomed within my mind.