Chicano Poet

Monday, August 14, 2006

Profane Box Of Colors

It was ages ago I wanted you one night
when the moon was on fire
and we lost all visibility.

Body against body,
before the dust
fell off, of course.

Now notice my skin against
your softest skin,
only a pencilmark separating us.

Now move on to the present:
A song trapped between two bricks,
I can’t read the words anymore.

It was ages ago I wanted you
and you wanted me,
crayons still standing in the Texas heatwave.


At 12:14 PM, Blogger Emmy said...

Your poems always work on so many levels. I admire this multiplicity in your work.

At 12:30 PM, Blogger RC said...



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