Un aplauso a
Todo eso que vive
Entre, tu mente y tu boca, y
Que nunca llega a salir
Esos momentos tuyos
Que tuyos se han de quedar
Hasta dejar de existir
Eso que habita la mente en forma de recuerdo,
De furtivos momentos escondidos en la normalidad
Detrás de un "nada" hay toda una vida en un instante
Un instante de vida oculta y presa
Entre tu memoria y tu boca
Come on, take my hand.
There’s a stunning carnival
Right in front of us.
It lights up the night
Like a group of fireflies.
Don’t you see that we have
A chance to rule the night?
So what are you waiting for?
There’s lots to do.
So much to see.
Our hearts will guide us.
No point in holding back now.
We only live once.
We can’t waste this time away.
The night is so young,
But baby, so are we at heart.
The park is stunning.
It’s everything that
I dreamed of.
Why did I delay before?
Now that I’m grown up,
There’s no chains to hold me down.
Come on, take my hand.
The rest of our lives await!
Why are you so scared?
Is the rotating wheel barrel blocking our path?
Did the power outage cause your heart to beat so loud?
Intensive moments build up character and bravery.
Your fears are below you now.
The storm may have
Crashed the party,
But that’s not how I see it.
Being so close to danger
Puts what we’ve learned to the test.
So let’s stand our ground.
And not wait until tomorrow.
The park is stunning.
It’s everything that
I dreamed of.
Why did I delay before?
Now that I’m grown up,
There’s no chains to hold me down.
Come on, take my hand.
The rest of our lives await!
The dream, an early morning awakening.
Past and present merge.
I’m in an unfamiliar place,
Staring at a concrete intersection,
Searching for known landmarks,
Trying to establish which way to go.
Each road leads to confusion.
Isolation.
Echoes of childhood have vanished for ever,
The familiar buildings replaced by office blocks,
And I stand alone by the crossroads, lost and without purpose.
My father brought a giant snapping turtle home
and plopped it on the driveway
big as a garbage can lid
and pissed as hell
reeking of years of pond muck
Don't get too close to it
he warned my little sister and me
It'll take your toes off, maybe your whole foot
We poked at it with very long sticks
as it moved in slow, defensive circles
puffed up to twice its size
hissing in a continuous, menacing monotone
sounding for all the world like a punctured tire
or a gas station air hose
Fascinating and horrifying
this stinking, loud, unseemly monster
Long tail just like an alligator, tucked tightly around itself
three-inch claws scritching across the concrete
Impossibly long neck, spring-loaded
shooting out with deadly precision
great beak snapping with murderous intent
at the sticks we thrust toward it with borrowed bravado
Dad said we were going to have turtle soup that night.
Sticks clattered to the driveway
as we gaped at him
Choking up on his axe handle
He assured us turtle soup was considered a delicacy
Then grabbed the tail of that
hissing
snapping
clawing beast
and dragged it around to the 7-foot tall woodpile
under the back deck
We clasped hands and made to follow, wide-eyed
Girls, he said, go inside; you shouldn't watch this
We skittered away without protest
My sister ran to her room to cry
But I
I crept quietly out onto the deck
I lay down, peering between the slats
and watched
I saw the axe blade fly, just once
a flash and
thwunk
the whole deck shook
I heard the head roll out of view
Dad nailed the headless turtle by its shell
to a log in the pile
Its limbs still churned slowly, devoid of intent
clawing at nothing
I watched as thick crimson rivulets
ran down the woodpile into the sparse grass
I had never seen so much blood.
The wicked blade of the fillet knife moved with precision
glinting through broken beams of sunlight
Turtle chunks plunked wetly into a big yellow bowl
the same one we used for popcorn
That night
as I pushed my "delicacy" around my bowl with a spoon
My father declared that turtle meat keeps moving
long after it's butchered
He said it sometimes keeps swimming around in your stomach,
even after you've swallowed it
I announced loudly
that I hadn'f felt anything moving in my belly
my sister said she hadn't either
and besides
we knew it wasn't true
Dad just smiled mischeviously
And ladled himself another bowl
For the rest of the evening we were vigilant
to the slightest intestinal slither
and the next day too
probably even the day after
It rained that night, slow and steady
rinsing the blood from the grass under the deck
leaving only the dark splatter-stains on the woodpile
Those stains were still there
when Dad threw the logs on the fire that winter
I know because I checked.
Dad said we were going to keep the turtle shell
as a souvenir
so he left it nailed to the log in the woodpile for weeks
scraps of withering meat still clinging to it
I used to crouch on the deck and peer through the slats
just to make sure those turtle chunks
weren't still moving
Enveloped in sheets, in silence,
The sheets stay still,
But in the mind is the scream--
the visit from you that won't stop
I see you; you do not,
I scream, plead and cry,
And you go on and on, with your life,
All I want, all I need, is to be
needed, and wanted
You cry, and I scream to let me
Soothe your pain, to let me
help in any way,
and you stare into the distance,
while I'm in limbo stuck,
in this sickly state I stare:
I want to be released. To let go and yet
Somehow this is still a.
sweet, silent.
scream
The piano keys keep playing in my mind,
it's all on a great giant gorgeous rewind,
of all the time we had that so was so short,
every new song i try to deport your memory,
but the addiction is still there like a giant cut,
it's a damned door dancing freely open that i can't shut,
it's a the wind that wails wistfully away,
notes never kneeling, dancing on piano keys, I can't say,
my peaceful sleep i can't keep,
medication or counting sheep,
there you are and i remember regretfully,
why i stopped listening to music so frequently,
30 and frozen at 15, where the magic still flows,
i'll only be released when time knows
allows for my story to continue onward onward
it's just a moment, a flash, and i worry
that you aren't full of happiness anymore
and here i am in a musical fantasy.
That Old Beige Yankees Cap, not very sure when it was supposed to be on top of my grandpa’s head, sometimes at the park, sometimes at the backyard, sometimes just going for groceries, but it never disappointed when we went to my grandpa’s ranch. This cap isn’t new or from a nice brand, it doesn’t have a crazy design; matter of fact I don’t even know where it came from, but one thing was certain about it: it always put my grandpa in a good mood, as if it was his lucky charm. We used to go to my grandpa’s ranch several times a year, there I had my first outdoor adventure, my first starry night, the first time I rode a horse, the first time I tasted beer, when I was scared of the wary “invisible” monsters of the night, or when I felt the strongest kid alive by lifting some (not so big) logs for the fireplace; jumping from joy or shaking in fear, one thing was certain for me in that ranch: that old beige Yankees cap man would be by my side. Despite of the obvious baseball passion my grandpa had, I never quite understood the reason of his New York Yankees fanaticism, however he always swore on them; I think that is the reason why he used that old beige Yankees cap as if it was the only cap he had, which I know it wasn’t the case because I myself gave my grandpa more than 10 caps so that he could give his outfit a little update. He never wore any of those caps, or any cap for that matter, other than his beloved one. I never had the chance to ask my grandpa: where did you got that cap? How old is it? Why is it so special to you? Why do you always wear it? It doesn’t matter; what matters is that my grandpa loved it. Every time I picture my grandpa that cap is on his head (with that funny slight tilt he always wore it with) as if it had glued onto him forever. After grandpa passed away, and his possessions were divided among family members, I could’ve chosen his fishing rod, his knife collection or even his fine watch; I don’t know why, if I hate baseball, if I was fed up with it, but of course: I chose that old beige Yankees cap.
My eyes were addicted to falling leaves and sunsets
Manufactured homes and suburban monoliths
My neighbourhood friends
Riding my bike
Being driven down highway roads at night
The scent of the hallways in my elementary school
Cracks in the sidewalk
And optometrist waiting rooms
Going somwhere new on excursion days
My aunt taking me to video game arcades
Finding four leaf clovers and hidden backyard flowers
Jumping on trampolines and watching cartoons for hours
-
The faces of my youth
The friends that loved me
Gone from my life
Now a sweet memory
The moment entered I the academia,
Encircled my mind was by nostalgia,
It seemed to me, speaking candidly,
As if the trees, the lakes etc. were calling me.
The same as before was the dove’s calling,
Except for the statues, the newly formed buildings,
More aesthetic the milieu does appear now,
How time does fly wondered I, how?
The memories let us live on,
Aren’t we dead when they are utterly gone?