I’ll let you know when I’m dead

Since I haven’t heard from you in a while

Busy, as you are, with your newfound love

Riding high on your accomplishments

And your fat pockets

How can you forget that

I imagine you’re too busy to notice

Other

Me, well

Almost everything around

Is rubble bones and blood

I’ll be joining the pile soon

To be sure

Nourished in heaven with manna

Not available to collective me

Here while alive

I thought about calling you

To see how you are

I’m not the only one suffering

Everyone in their own way

Silent or otherwise

Bombs or no bombs

Food or no food

Love or no love

To be true

Because my heart is bigger than yours

And I can only feel

sorrow  for your shallow

But  can not justify

You your

Ignorant violence

So we live together

In silence

They destroyed everything.
Our homes
Our hospitals
Our place of prayer
Holy Places
They murdered our children
Our Children

My mother lies
In part, in parts
Most of her hot vapor sprayed
Against the wall
Updating paintings
Soaking into the soft cushions

I’m in a tent
On vacation
Plenty of food
Like “Victory”
It’s within reach
A few more meters
A few more deaths

You’re in a tent
You say to me
Rent-free
I should be happy
And quiet
For the privilege I endure

In Jerez
At this time of year
The air is rich with alcohol
From the bodegas
Where the casks breathe out
A steady current of alcohol vapors
from the casks of the bodegas
which saturates the intoxicating air
heavy and cool at this time of year

At this time of year
in Jerez de la Frontera
The air is rich with alcohol
that lays like a vapor dome
under the low winter cloud
above the saturated land
everyone is intoxicated

each breath a small sip
fino
each sip
amontillado
the corner of the lip splays up
oloroso
everyone is intoxicated
from the root
flamenco fino Jerez

The old man holding up the building
the police smiling in front of the ayuntamiento
The child walking next to its stroller
holding her mother’s hand
the doctor before probing you
they are all intoxicated
each small breath a sip
a homeopathic dose
of blessed alcohol

At this time of year
in the gran pueblo de Jerez de la Frontera
The air is thick with alcohol
stuck in a layer above the fertile earth
below a hovering layer of cloud
embedded in time
everyone intoxicated slightly
cruising the saturated air
in search of nowhere

Solea

En esta epoca del ano
el aire es fresco
en esta época del año
el aire es pesado
en esta época del año
En Jerez de la Frontera
el aire es intoxicante

En Jerez
En esta época del año
El aire es rico en alcohol
De las bodegas
Donde los barriles exhalan
Una corriente estable de vapores de alcohol
de los barriles de las bodegas
que satura el aire intoxicante
pesado y fresco en esta época del año

En esta época del año
En Jerez de la Frontera
El aire es rico en alcohol
que se encuentra como una cúpula de vapor
bajo la baja nube de invierno
por encima de la tierra saturada
Todos están intoxicados

Cada respiración de un pequeño sorbo
finos
cada sorbo
amontillado
la esquina del labio se extiende
oloroso
Todos están intoxicados
de la raíz
Flamenco Fino Jerez

El viejo sosteniendo el edificio
la policía sonriendo frente al ayuntamiento
El niño caminando al lado de su cochecito
sosteniendo la mano de su madre
el médico antes de sondearlo
Todos están intoxicados
cada aliento pequeño un sorbo
una dosis homeopática
de bendito alcohol

En esta época del año
En el Gran Pueblo de Jerez de la Frontera
El aire está lleno de alcohol
atascado en una capa sobre la tierra fértil
Debajo de una capa de nubes que se cierne
incrustado en el tiempo
todos intoxicados ligeramente
navegar por el aire saturado
En busca de ninguna parte

From the ocean that wells up inside of us

When we are overwhelmed by

Joy, Wonder, Sorrow, Loss, and Love

We can sell the sun-dried product

At Market

In our tiny village

When the People eat the brine

That poured out of us

They will feel the stories

Course through their capillaries

About the long road traveled

Reminding them of the convergence

Instructing them to hold the light

That brought them here

To tattoo the Tierra

With their blood seeping down to the river

And the smoke of their ritual fires touching the sky

Visible in the distance to influence

The clouds that rain inside

To cultivate the crops our lachrimae will eventually accentuate

Last night

I was raven to your hawk

At first you were rock

In the talus puzzle

Later it seemed

You were a wave of wind

Atop the trees

Cascading along the ridge

Toward the infinite

Then that strange blue light

Bounced from the sun

Shone through

The one cloud in the sky

From which appeared your final form

In that dream you had

You beckoned me to partake

In our next fake

Royal joust in the sky

A game we engage

For the dream catchers

Passing by

On the way

To the great thing in their mind

Where everything plays

A fantasy

That gravity was too busy playing god

Holding other people down

You fell skyward

Grabbing a few things on your way up

Your keffiyeh

Because you could still reach it

With the few witches’ burr

Attached from the last time

You wandered along the scree

In search of a talisman

To keep you grounded

That you would plant in a cloud

The dallah given you by father

So you would not have to sacrifice tradition

For all else you have given up up and away

One Blue Cistus flowering

From imbibing your child’s joyous tear

Wrung from the duct at hisan’s arrival

Just like you cried when she was born

Placed in your arms

And never let go

But you couldn’t reach the memory

As you fell skyward

Of whatever it was still in your heart

Stolen by time

Lost in love

Drifted apart

Warsaw
The resistance was fierce
the jews
brutal
and ingenious
their networks of tunnels
their stores of of weapons
the underdog
damned to extermination
and fighting till the end
honor, dignity, pride, life – actually

Hamas puts bombs in babies heads when they’re born
in case your american misslies can’t find them
everyone wants them dead for their own right reasons
lest they grow up to become poets, mothers, lovers

Gaza
the resistance was fierce
the jews
muslims, christians
brutal
the indigenous
fighting for life, actually
in their networks of tunnels
weapon caches strategically placed

Zionist implants unimprovised explosive devices
in the heads of their aliyah children
right of return to hellacious lands
where love had her first fight
and will die fighting
licking the luscious last drops of blood
from the mosque floor
breathing in the last ashes of the dead
jews, muslims, christians
poets, mothers, lovers

the only thing
I have from you
is this sliver of the reflection of your face
in this chard of the mirror
from your bedroom