Tag Archives: Sint Maarten Sonnets

How much blood is in a human body? How much life is under this skin and veins? Is the surface a moment so gaudy that, if scrutinized, its secret remains? Under the armor of light and of sand, twisted by the azure waves that break them, remain chan… Continue reading →

Devilish drone of metal and leafy tearssurround the ruddy wagons of this brain, leaving tied tight the memory of beers drunk with loyal friends between sky and rain: The planets whirl unknown in this false state where sovereign fists punch against… Continue reading →

The cindery and parched pilgrim wandersinto the glittered garden as his eyeslinger over its verdure; he ganderson through the verger, seeking bright reprise:He hears birds trine: solfa solfa dalí, he smells orange blossoms unpeel themselvesto rele… Continue reading →

What! So many languages off the cuffpouring in and out the ear like salt, sand,with such disparate words for time, hope, lovelike lobi, expectation, flower, hand: Collige, virgo, rosa, ere hands end,for without them you cannot pluck flowers;Expans… Continue reading →

Hot nights trickle across time breathlessly, especially when people isolate and put themselves on islands, hopelessly putting their faith in dreams that can’t create: This is the divide: between vision and decision, between sight and mind or skill… Continue reading →

The salamander’s thickness makes it seemmore interested in the festivitiesthan is possible. And two women screamwhen it slides into frame with its slimed ease:An amphibian, yes, in a new world of saltless seas of ice and of bottles,it adjusts to t… Continue reading →

Whatever my complexes, I am here,standing at the brink of something blessèdthat I cannot yet see, describe or hear,but I sense its draft wafting up, placid:More loyal than I realized, I’ve returned to this same lucid garden that was killed,and I f… Continue reading →

Aww, look at the poor pious boy shake his headin agreement with the benevolenttreatment of his master: the day-old bread,the fattiest part, and a bloodline rent:Have I been this boy? Yes, but not by choice; and though my blood flows ripped as if r… Continue reading →

My project is so silent, so silent:to confound and confabulate raceswith a single multiple stroke, violentagainst coterminous culture spaces:To delimit the nature is to cutaway the off-putting mess of nature; you can have your dream and happiness,… Continue reading →

I find meaning in the eyes that look outlike exhaust in the air, flapping like curves,moving like the vicissitudes of doubt,seeing little, and bending ’round like curbs:Somehow, though, people miss the point in me, which has always been to face up… Continue reading →