There Are Clouds in These Dreams

Letter to Sylvia Cover “…there are clouds in these dreams and i am flying hard between ashes,

did you not get burned at stakes?

there are words in these dreams but I am not one saying them,

to swallow alone is pain. to breathe, a sin.

not one word out but here are letters for when you wake up,

she said, you will tell them how to say it out loud,

even with tears in their eyes. tell them.

and so I write.”

 

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Let Me Write It Simple

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it’s always messy down here in your basement

where memories go to a happy place

they say i’m in love with love

but i never knew how to flaunt it

in between unsaid words and

staggering poetry so let me write it simple:

i want you, life, serene and tender

i want you, love, without going so much on a bender

Your Name and Everything about It

your name always feels strange on my tongue
i wonder if i swallow it, it would stab my inside or is it this deep sting i endure everytime your name crosses my brain, ready to pop out in odd places it shouldn’t so i roll it up and keep it in between my clenched teeth
hold it in with all my might so it’d never come out,

i will never set it free… i will never let it be…

so i call you john, and so my friends knew you as john, john the musician, john doe, a strange man from a strange land, so i made you anonymous
i made you nothing despite of everything
in spite of the things defining you and your strangely
tragic life, “daddy left when you were born,
mommy gave you away when you were four…”
somewhere along the life you became a star shining too bright you’re exploding too much light

still you are the storm, who flies across the sky, who paints it grey, who makes it rain makes its lightning glare down onto my vulnerable scraped skin, who foresees future within the past, pretending to make it alright with sunshines and rainbows and pots of gold…

so you are john, a strange man from a strange land, whom i write my letters to, i say “dear john, now my tongue has troubles saying i love you…”

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Here I Love You

Here I Love You

Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.

The snow unfurls in dancing figures.
A silver gull slips down from the west.
Sometimes a sail. High, high stars.
Oh the black cross of a ship.
Alone.

Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.

Here I love you.
Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels
that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.

The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have. You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
But night comes and starts to sing to me.

The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.

 

Here I love You

Pablo Neruda