Monday, September 24, 2012

The lacemaker

Dexterous hands tie the needles to the pillow
nimbly feeding the bobbins
with rows of cloud like cotton
The lacemaker jabs the pattern
with orange needles

Carefully ties the first node
singing, repeating verses
with the same subjected
node codes

She forgets her empty belly
the sadness of her poor bare feet
singing the beauty of the blue pillow
while draws in white
the figure of dreams
made out of cotton clouds

Subservient she obeys the orders of needles
removing them, releasing the pillow
from acrid tips

Distracted the lacemaker
ignores the wrinkled lines of yesterday on her face
or her owns calloused hands,
absorbed in transform the continuous line
in the story she tells in lace

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Wake up Butterfly

The butterfly slowly wakes up from her long sleep confined in the dark cocoon. Thinking as a caterpilar she tries to move, unaware yet that what feels like a straitjacket tied to her are her own wings confined within the silk. The butterfly rebels, stretches, gradually breaking the cradle of her transformation. She emerges from the chrysalis wet, limp wings, twisted antennas. She gazes confused, still getting used to light, the little feet before only short stumps, now long lean gazelle like legs. Yawning she stretches the long probocis, frightened by her new device, and in delight smells the nectar. She had to bare eating the bitter leaves in order to smell this honey. The butterfly had to transcend the photosynthesis, breaking the light in the rainbow scales of her wings. Shivering them, flipping the tubes which fill with vital fluids and stretching out the wrinkles she opens up splendid. The butterfly will never know the glory of her beauty, but at the first impulse she learns in delight that she can fly. Dazzled with the flowers, sipping their sweet honey, she does not realize she can be as fascinating as such. Butterflies do not look in the mirror.

Thursday, September 13, 2012


Night sorceress
The moon peeking out from passing black clouds
The owl shrieks a grim peep
Wolves howl in response to the wind’s howls through the wires
Rusty hinges creak
boards of abandoned doors, broken locks cracks
Open pits in the greedy ground
muffled cries
Machiavellian eyes peer  from the blooming cornfield  
hissing snakes creeping out of the shadows
It needs to be very quiet,
not to wake the creatures
diving bats fly close to the neck
avid for the draculan treasure
the being twists in agony
anticipating the nooses hanging from the branches
frightened, the feet breaks a little branch
with a booming sound that suddenly makes the night silent
The wind blows out the flame of the lamp
in the cold night hot jet runs down the legs
There in the distance the evil bathroom seems to have it’s sarcastic mouth open
"Ah ha ha ha ha!
One more, "it seems to say.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012


Daises sprinkled on a carpet of bright green grass
Raised upon the ground
Extending the tender petals to a turquoise sky
A hopping bird nearby feast on wondrous worms
Munching with joy the meat from earth’s womb

Maze made of sinestesies, light, smells sounds
A touch of divine on the creature’s face, a
Daring taste of famine revolving the guts as he
Eats, continuously

Oyster full of unlimited possibilities, rainbows
Fading at the drying dew

Has this day really dawn? Why is there a frown?
As lilies and roses exhales their elixir
Zombie bees dance drunken scrollwork

Minding only to feed from the mother
Immanently waiting for the offspring
Raving she waits for the connection
Racing to produce the precious sap
Orderly placed everything is on time
Run!The food will be you

Tuesday, September 11, 2012