Saturday, March 25, 2006

Moss Fire

I like seeing the bracelets around your wrists
Like rings around the planets of your hands
Where the land is fertile
Where there are fields of gold
Where my sighs live
Your touch replenishes me.

G. Flores

Ode To A Nightmare

Rapist of dreams
Violator
You twist my wrist
Into roses that sparkle
You take my deepest innocence
And sell it to me in a window
You torture my lovedones
And make me watch
Unable to scream
Unable to move
Unable to close my eyes

You make me something I’m not
You make me a mouse
When I am a cat
You make me a worm
When I’m a bird
You turn my own imagination on me
You mine in deep caves
I cannot track

G. Flores

Love Full

Don't do it this way
Don't throw words at me
Like they were gold coins
And I your whore
Don't leave me so slowly
Don't creep out of the back door
While I sleep
Wake me from this dream
And tell me that you don't want me
That you hate my snoring
That I am not the one
That it is my fault
Instead of me wondering
If I live in illusion
Or what it is I've done
Don't push me away
Like a plate of food that you’re full of
That you no longer hunger for



G. Flores

Ode to My Sunflower Seeds

They taste like the house I once lived in
They are natural, organic and
Have absorbed the aromas and the habits
In their flavor

As I eat these seeds
The old house comes alive
The memory so gladly forgotten
And tucked away
Is resurected
By the encription of their flavor

These seeds of the sunflower
Have made it spring
They have erected the frame
They have rebuilt the walls
And shine their light
On this memory sprouting in me
Unroasted, unsalted, and raw

I eat this old house
I eat my roomates
I eat the unwashed dishes
I eat the music that was played


G. Flores

San Francisco Airport

I do not want to live in a building
like a meatloaf in a box
Nor do I want to drive a car
whose price could feed thousands
because I felt like I deserved it

I don’t want to go on chasing carrots
made of pixels and wonder
who I am in the middle of life
to find myself in Paris


I want to make my own
I want to take a seed from my soul
and muster up a crystal
I want to chop down the trees of knowledge
and re-plant a tree of life

I don’t want to wear a watch
like the guy does in the magazine
you know, the watch that tells you that he's smart
scuba diving manly, taking out the trash
Taking care of business
holding his chin upon his thumb
and two fingers to the brow

I want to be a man that you've never seen on T.V.
not like him or her
I want to walk into a party
amongst cologne and watches
razor burn and ties
like whips and shackles
I want to walk into that room and glow with wonder
made of purity of heart

It makes my stomach turn to think about pandoras box
It frightens me I've gone too far and will never find a way
But "A" lead me to "be" and "be" lead me to "see"!

I dont want to be a cop or a marine
chest pumped up with pride
with the confidence of badges
I MUST be doing SOMETHING right!
Every new medal covering my heart
and loved by women who love uniforms
who dont see "boy" hidden in my seams

I dont want to worry anymore about him or her
I dont want to be compassionate and aware
in a world of jagged edges
that pops heart shaped balloons


G. Flores

Ode to a Lutheran Social Services Waiting Room

Your air has been stirred by many legs
And many breaths
And many turning pages

Your carpet has been walked on
By men who drive big cars
Women from valleys
People who have stepped in gum
And live in alleys

Your chairs unhomie and uncomfortable
To some
Are a luxury to others
Hard as rocks yet feather pillows

Your smell of gray mixed
Like a multitude of colors
Of aromas
Of perfumes
Of sweat from walks
From sex
From drugs
From yesterday
From last week
All stay temporarily

Your name serves you well
You look waited in
Your doors are a mosaic
Of finger prints
Around the ever twisting doorknobs
Every picture frame
Hangs crooked on the harmonizing hum
Of the air conditioner
And florescent lights


G. Flores

Silence

Silence is an invisible tree
With songs resting on its leaves
Silence is a flower
Colored by voices
And shaped by drums

It is the absence of sound
And the dwelling place
Of the eternal song
Like the night sky is full of stars
Though you can’t see them

Silence is music in its whole
Like the day and night together
Would make time still
Like the man and woman as one
Would make love absent

Silence is a symphony
With all their bows on their laps
All their reeds still on trees
All their woods without wind
And conspiring to make music
Out of nothing

Silence is like the night sky
Full of stars though you can’t see them

G. Flores

Little Boats

My heart is still
And beats with caution
Around the barbed wire of time
Afraid that every beat moves towards you
Afraid that every beat counts a letter of your name
Afraid this too will be history

And here we are
My heart beats illogically

When I hold you there is no time
Inside of me the seagulls pass
And flaming arrows of sensibility
Wind around me
When I kiss you an ocean roars in silence


The same ocean that carries you off
On little boats made of silver light
To a place where we only have the moon in common


G. Flores

Surrender

Open the gates
And let me in
Put down your shield
Leave your arrows in their sleeve
Set your army free

Surrender
Unlock your door
And let me pass

I am here
Handing out my keys
Because I tore down my walls
And I own nothing
Because I meet myself in everyone
Set your servant free

Surrender
Your hatred
That speaks in whispers
In open fields
And roars in cages


G. Flores