Apr. 1st, 2014

  • 12:54 AM
"Untitlted."

What I feel is prehistoric
part of me can't believe that it exists;
i need a second brain, a trillion years,
miles of nerve endings and veins;
scientists dream up new shapes for me;
should spend billions understanding; analyzing
how you make me feel; how you move me
thunderous applause -- a shaken heart
stilled and set back in place; metronome me:
tick-tock-tick; take your pick:
Captain Hook or shadows on the wall:
a refraction of your sunlight; your celestial body
point me magnetic north; guide this lost boy home
and i'll refuse to find my way.

Apr. 1st, 2014

  • 12:05 AM
"Who Am I, A Love Poem?"

My mother calls my GuĂ­ngui,
and it's a nothing word:
holdover from a time when
a cousin I didn't know at the time
couldn't pronounce three letters:
tripping over them so often
only nonsense came out:
I-A-N; so-named (or so I'm told)
because someone hated Frank,
and the lineage it implied--
Frank as his father, his grandfather,
and even further still--
clashed with an image of:
two-point five kids, dogs
money out the ass,
and a white picket fence;
But let's not obsess