Acción Poética
Poems born from pain, love, the search for joy, and the path to liberation.
firestorm
scorched father, seared son. a firestorm.
- x pasa dulce
a wish upon a hazy dirty gold round
your hazy
dirty gold round
rises like
a lazy hot air balloon
in my rearview
mirror
i refuse to wave goodbye
cuz you
you bring me life
everywhere i wake
you glow up
the murk of spring
like you got something to prove
rippling the water
trapped inside
my eye sockets
and perking up
my aging flesh
the must be
“return to normal”
infatuation
has us all
barreling down
some supernova highway
to somewhere
could very well be
our last
i blame
my thirst
lust for instant gratification
i ate both marshmallows
as a kid
and believed
it was because i had no self control
where are we going?
oh honey
where god damn where
are we going?
we make it
i’m sure
cuz we wake up
from our rigor mortis
rigid slumber
like orderly and trained cotton swabs
firmly packed
with stiff necks and sore
atop a 5x5 plywood made bed
that feels like a petate made of marble
and somehow
also like an infinite spacious cloud
might be the proximity to stinky feet
and b.o. scented flesh
that i somehow
brought to life
some 17 and 13 years ago
or the sleep deprivation
but most likely
it’s the drugs
prescribed or whatever
and the high
of this cafe de olla
brewing me alive
arousing my eyelids
and soul follicles
wide awake
we traded security
and a central a.c. unit
for 1 gallon bucket baths
taken for granted heat
for obscenely priced propane
the rich
would jump from their balconies
if they had to buy
and fuck
i’d pay to see them jump
the poor
have always
paid
the highest prices
we all know that
your hazy
dirty gold round
rises like this sleepy
rainbow hot air balloon
and we rise with you
to look you
straight in the eyes
to greet you
and thank you
for this morning
and this breath
and ask you
for a wish
a modest
thirty six thousand more
of these hazy rises
together will do
they’d be
just enough
just enough
to see us grow
- x pasa dulce