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Showing posts from 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 go

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 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


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