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I LOVE the moon that was broken off in pieces
swinging their strange rays
am the light that has tasted the heavens
(in riddles written memories)

I am the sun is not
and thirsty desert is behind some sleep the night I'm
strokes
-alone star that falls asleep in the waiting-

'm So before I
-a last fleeting as the wind kick up the leaves and
dry.

In my hands traced the lines of disappointments and bitter
destinations.

was not easy, counting the hours
uncertain among all my dark nights
to my body and tucked the absence
raged in my skin over time.

returned to the dusty trail
forgotten even in the absence
found my way to hell
that love became the sky. And looking

signal paths in your footsteps
I could see that when touched, not hurt them.

Raising my prayer at the end of the road
Would you believe you, love that my steps found?

spines where your feet were pink
walked so alive, covered with kisses. Alma Cervantes

Red And Swollen Big Toe

To hell, my love



I have two new blisters on the feet, one on each instep.

When it seems that there is no room for a scar, life insists on reminding us that the skin is our largest organ and there is always room for the consequences of our wrecks.

From my shipwrecks continued.

And my experiments in blind alleys. Of those that always yield the same anywhere.

Where I come back with encouragement along the ground and head in a storm.

War wounds and empty hands. And the weary.

Because in the end it is always the same. Because there was never easily satisfied.

settle Because I do not know complicates things. And nobody taught me to be quiet and go with the flow. And I'm not sure I wanted to learn to do that.

Not even if my feet hurt every day a little more. And my mouth begins to forget how to say I miss you too or I stay here with you all.

may simply not know it otherwise not be my way.

The way of eternal dreamers.

Of the losers.

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LOVE THE POET AND THE SECRET LIFE OF A LOVE

"Here I am again
Taking the course of my verses
Building
echoes words without writing a voice that has not died"


Life when my feet are drawing marks on the barren land of forgetfulness, time widens even more his mouth and swallows every sip every illusion in agony, every inch of your touch, each waiting for your absences.

life when my hands trying to mold your face into a canvas
your smile becomes a grimace, your gaze is lost in
horizons and your kisses to my kisses do not come. Amada

life, loving side of my wounds, home to a cherished past when he forgot that you had forgotten. Yes
life, you're circle of love and lovers, Aged tears by memories, sad dream of poetry.

My soul is tired, whispering that night so many times he ate every hope of love, each secret between passions, each wasted a thousand kisses ... Be silent poetry
... come hold me in your womb Can not you see I'm still a child and I have fear?
These crying Do you realize?
If every tear you cry Then in verse
become the poem that was born
that tear is the message of the poet and life. Alma Cervantes

July 14, 2010

My Dog Ate A Breathsavers

"FORGET? As
hurt me hurt me forget love, cling to the rope of oblivion,
of this absence that eats the soul of this thought dragging ... I could not ever understand the agony of your scorn intolerant

Were there any offenses? Your lips uttered them, my ears
They drank each of them and still live in every corner of my mind.
born each day in hopes of being in this world
as the night wakes the anxiety thirsty to drink each of your words, to try each one of your kisses, kisses that insatiable left behind a bed of longing, passion , memories, in a world overrun with oblivion.

back ... desires that scream in the wind ... again ... not true heart that my soul is lost in oblivion, lie the tears that you cried the absence rolling ... How the soul can mourn without agony?

And my body broke
walking away and burned my repressed desire and my longing
molding could no longer secret words
my lips could no longer tell the moon
that there really is life in your sky.