Out of Reach

Be so goddamn unattainable that they think you live on the moon. Better still, be the moon that is too large for their lassos and too far from their reach.

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The Dark Side of the Moon

Everything is heightened as if this cold front brought things into perspective. There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach when in the past there would be exhilaration, perhaps it’s all the pills getting me down and interacting in some way that deviates from the norm like a statistical significance. There is the dark and there is the light and sometimes one takes over the other as if to give the other the rest it requires to return more strongly. There can’t be much like whittling away the pieces layers to leave space for the art underneath created by steady hands. At times all is not well and she will be difficult. Terse words should be enough to express the extent of the depths within. Maybe I’m less patient because I don’t feel well and I’m a bit unhealthy or maybe it’s because I’m tired of being the repetitive waves crashing against the shore to soak tiny pieces of sand created artificially. Be dark, unflinching, tense, and done if you need to be. She will be.

Chuvas

I love that about her, the way the little hairs behind her ears sway in the wind created artificially by the fan through electricity. I love how she sits at my feet while I read, silently about wastelands all throughout a destroyed Earth due to humankind’s engineering. I love how she waits and suddenly looks… The biggest brown eyes stare back at me with understanding and affection. In her mind, she’s the protector, the healer, the giver and I suppose that in my mind she is as well. My little wolf, with a little button nose that takes in the scents around me to ensure that where I am is where I should be. That little wolf stares out the windows with ears perked amazed at the intricate simplicity of the world around us.

Super Blood Wolf Moon

The fronds rustling in the chilled air and a wolf’s moon gently watches as I inhale and exhale smoke from within my soul and out towards the night sky. She looks down with her red face soon to be eclipsed and a secret nod occurs between us. She is a protector—moon goddess—and I am a loyal servant. In my sensuality I extol rituals in her name as invisible, glittering strings grow from within me and dissipate into energy like the smoke exiting my lungs. Each breath is an intention, each inhale is a collected pool of energy brought further in to my body. The moon wears a red veil and I am naked, barren without need for shrouds. No clouds exist between us now and soon we will become one.

Diosa Lunera

Like the moon, occult and distant from ways typical to normality, you shine. The light is not yours to keep, yet you let its colors drape over your silvery surface. So barren and still and not fully colonized, but a spectacle for all, you continue to be. Unaware of those eyes that marvel at your excellence do you purposely hide? Your phases are logical, and you enchant your lovers to their duality, yet you allow the wolves to chase—but what of the “moonless” nights? The clouds are your cover, the rain your screen, but still I wonder if you don’t secretly hope that they look where you have been.

 

Quédate, quédate luna que los lobos te buscan y en el silencio mi corazón late por tu presencia. Contigo siento el amor que por tanto tiempo no he conseguido encontrar. Te busco y te encuentro con mi cabeza bajo mar. Seguí las olas hasta tu paraíso. Ya se que mi idea del cielo es tu soledad.

Sometimes Poems Are Meant to Be Whispered

She was drowning for so long like a fish out of water choking on the gases in the atmosphere

So she learned how to swim through the buildings and she creeped through the cracks.

I was always a fish not quite belonging in that or the other sea

Yet I could always see me and my scales that reflected everything but never absorbed.

 

So I rode that underwater wave or ripple or have at it whatever you wish

Until I became lost at its ending to swim back but more slowly this time.

I numbed my fins to everything around me and only saw from eyes sideways as I squirmed

Here and there to get a better view—damn how I felt that view in my cartilage.

 

Never enough grown or graceful enough for mermaids to whom Triton instilled an internal compass

But I knew that if I followed the moon she would bless me with her radiance

I was a reflection of her who was herself a reflection of a burning sun

So brightly in her white glow that she only took from something else.

 

Like moon like fish following currents and orbits and reflecting existence in ways unimaginable to so many eyes.