The Rose that Towered over the Earth

I leaned closer to sniff a flower.

I was too close and felt as though

The rose had given me a kiss.


I will never pluck it from its stem.

This rose, this flower,

this gentle and prickly manifestation,

Is a part of the Earth,

And will not be forced apart,

By my hand.


Towering above all creation it must remain.

It’s reflection glimmering brightly from the pond

That nourishes its roots.


The Rose is swayed by the wind and nothing more,

And I the faithful spectator walking by,

Will always admire,

The glory of its bloom.

Our eyes are set on every way

As it pertains to the light of day

I would say that any one ray

Knows just what it came to earth for

And perceives its place and nothing more


But when it comes to the human mind

Its first purpose it left far behind

And thinks of new and wondours ends

To which our will does seek and bend


And if our being be of such dew

That like the water it always renews

And if our flesh be of such mold

That various ends do we behold


Then I can say that we are of Orsino’s ilk

Set to sail to the clean and to the filth

The double mind James warned about

It’s duopoly in our will it carries out


If I can trust that you can see

That more than this we can just be

There’s hope enough we could trancend

These bonds of mind and base intent

Hope is found even when unsought

Hope is here and always there

In the space of fancy and in the air

And the coveted miracle

It’s glory will shine

Whether the seeker would take much time

Or settle for nine moons

Just like the rain

Will wet the dessert plain

So would our hope

Relieve our thirst again

And as the trees

Would humbled be

If it wasn’t for the birds

That dwell therein

Among the branches and all the leaves

So would we be

If we failed to see

The present hope

That is always there

Cielo azul, Cielo rojo

Imagínate que el primer Mestizo Mexicano reflejara su condición.

Siendo el puente de dos mundos, mas no estar en ninguno de los dos.

El agua azul debajo del puente, y el cielo rojo del atardecer por arriva.

Cuales serían sus palabras, pensadas o habladas, acerca de su visión.

“Si bien los de españa son de sangre azul, yo soy de sangre roja.”

Y mirando al cielo, que primero se vió azul, el atardecer lo hiso rojo. Los ojos del hombre cuyo padre los tenía ojos azules, él los tiene negros, como el cielo se convertira cuando el sol visita al viejo continente.

Y el viento sin color, que sopla lentamente, si pudiera hablar diciera, ha nacido una nueva gente.

Los cosmos, personificandolos, dirían, que su clase está presente.


La pacífica vía del río

Por naturaleza y sin esfuerzo

Corre por encima de las piedras y pecez

Igual que mi atracción acia la verdad

Que se esconde en el discurso eterno.

De tal modo que una piedra se cae

Desde la punta de una montaña,

De tal modo que el viento

Carga las alas de una paloma volando,

Es así que mi inclinación es a la belleza escondida,

Detras de la música serena y eterna.

El eco de la nota primordial,

Cantada con sonorosa fuerza,

Y triste alegría,

Se encuentra multiplicado en este mundo,

Por toda palabra honesta, por toda pieza de arte


Si esta hipnotizante tempestad de bellesa

Corre y unde el camino justo de nuestro ambiente,

El mundo dichoso no podría expresar adequada

Gratitud: Pero el río corre, y no se detendrá, por tal

Razón, la gratitud empezará su nueva etapa de alegría

Y verdad.

The amalgamation of elements (2010)

The amalgamation of elements
Does create an aesthetic symetry
In what we call creation
In what we call our world

Down to the miniscule subject of focus
Up to the broadest cosmic generality we can scope
There lies a world for the wide awake
For those with sober minds to behold

We watch the world, while wide awake
Our senses bring us a picture
Of what we will never understand
Of what we will never be

The Prize of the Game

No doubt the torch does aid a man

To find his way inside the cave

Of life as he gropes about

For an anchor that stabilizes

His path


If one had to walk blind

Without the aid of wooden day

No doubt one would go astray

Though possibilities permit all ways



And so with certainty we see

That chances don’t give equally

But they give to all just the same

And only answer to the name

Which the seers do proclaim

A word that light does not differentiate

From itself


A soul has all the world to gain

When the cave, the torch, and the one are all the same

Such fact being the prize of the game

an illusion of hope (2007)

we are all on a boat, heading down the spiral

I am told to live my life right, the boat keeps drifing by, and we’re all it,

I am told to do, I am not to expect, I am told…

the boat keeps moving, they say it will keep us from the worst of the world,

without need, yet unsatisfied, we drift quietly, our iminent destination so close, and yet so far,

“I just wanna” I stop and think, maybe this feeling is not a want, it feels like a yearning, but it’s a feeling deep withing my stomach, and I don’t know what to do.

I look around, everyone in the boat looks at the horizon, no one makes eye contact, eveyone with an indifferent look…

mother says we’re not the fortunate ones,

another sunset sends its rays out

dark orange is our world, no sound save the sound of screeching wood

the feeling in me turns in to hope, a hope that somewhere ahead there is what I’ve searched for, to not want, to feel justified, where it’s all right, where it’s all okay

as soon as it came it faded, and back to my natural state, I fall in full knowledge of our iminent doom, our world limited by the borders of the boat, and all the while clearing my head and telling myself keep moving forward

who would have thought it would be so hard, to do without a reason, to move without purpose, to strive without a goal

tied in a whrill of comfusion, we travel on, our destinies so interwined, that they tie us in such a way that none will ever be reached

Verses :)

Pasando por calles, con mi gran soledad

Esperando que allase un hueso

Las normas antiguas nunca abrigaron

Lo que aclamamos por justicia


Estrechos momentos de la meditacion

A un estado elevado de conciencia

Momentos enteros, como eternidad

Que sustienen una dulce paciencia


Mas que a uno, a estos versos dedico

Pues del echo de las silabas

Han venido de los labios del pensamieto

De una entera generacion


Paso a paso, con todas las bendiciones reales

no humanas, sino ideales

Nunca propias

Sino celestiales