to a mirror that doesn't exist

i'm sorry stella
happy dreams
only happen
by accident

the happiest night
of my entire life
was a hypothetical

though i couldn't tell you
the wars that ended
before the rem phase did

im sorry stella
happydream
don't happen
till accident

though i looked like you
and my parents hugged back
turns out i just misread

so don't reach out
i'm no woman

I'm just a sorry excuse for a man,

interlude

the duskdream of summer melts
into a sudden drop in temperature
ah, the first chill of an autumn that
shyly makes acquaintance

oasis of respite, nature's smoke break,
evolutionary grounding wire
he'll shake you awake, never let you forget:
we still have middle grounds

from one virtual particle to another

what a beautiful chance
to meet in such bereft land
if only for an instant
then back into the trance

i dreamed of telling you
all i don't tell anyone else
maybe if i was someone else
or to another you

thank you for keeping warm
stars huddled by the fireplace
held tightly to the firmament
so we don't fall into space

atypical minutial visualizations

cat's fish-scented yawn
sterile touch of silicon
dry snot covered back of nightstand
guitar's hallway-like soundbox
crystalline asphalt
resentful public transportation
bitter earwax
family of dandelions
cacophony of footsteps
plantation of desks
yearnful whiteboard
book of dust
warm beverage shelter
earpiercing white ceramic
unremarkable lust for gourmand
throat rammed with printer paper
longing of more and less
dust-bunnies on polo shirt
seran wrapped clock
homespun leather workshop waft
artisan doll varnish paint
old man smelling home
gravestone covered in moss
rise once onto the toil
then again into the soil

te veo ahí, y no sos más que un cuerpo
expuesta en vivo tu epidermis
puesta al rayo fulgente del sol
y absuelta

me veo acá, y trazo un pentagrama
ante mis pies, atado a mis zapatos
extiendo los brazos,
y expando

es ese el marco, abierto
tamizado el atril y listo
para insípidos lienzos
y me deshago

creo que fue el anhelo,
o quizá el apuro
el que llagó mi fábula
de salir del sol

cuánto tengo en vano, y cuánto más habrá
cuando permito la guardia en frágil viruela
avistado y avispado por más aún
vis a vismo

es así nomás como asgo
y nuevamente deslizo
para no volver
en riendas

may 23rd, 2024

young epictetus gazes up at the grandest spilling of milk. in the dead of night, there he is, on the waves of neptune. warm seafoam against his skin, the smell of salt and algae. the planetary winds of the open sea blow him apart, leaving only what has always been there, letting it beam down into the darkest depths, and lighting up the unknown in an aquarelle constellation of blue and white. a hand of light he lays on the heart of the ocean, to open up true sanctuary. inside, nothing but silence, and respite. he kicks the dirt off his boots.

june 14th, 2020

blue sky full of steam. an endless ocean. there is a singular iceberg. there is a singular tropical island. it is not particularly cold. it is not particularly warm. you are vision.

¿de quién es? may 17th, 2020

un coloso de adoquín alcanzando hasta las nubes. posiblemente por nadie construido. posiblemente nunca construido. posiblemente alcanzando hasta las nubes desde que el mundo es mundo. en la planicie verde, el pilar perdura.

el pastizal eterno se extiende al horizonte, interrumpido únicamente por el pilar. inaccesible, hospeda escrituras en su prisión calcárea. posiblemente por nadie escritas. posiblemente nunca escritas. posiblemente prisión de conocimiento desde que el mundo es mundo. en la planicie verde, el pilar perdura.

el infinito se conserva en la llanura. lo desconocido se conserva en el pilar. tan culpables como el pilar mismo, las escrituras guardan el secreto bajo candado y llave. posiblemente nunca nacieron. posiblemente nunca lo hicieron. posiblemente son un misterio desde que el mundo es mundo. en la planicie verde, el pilar perdura.

la incertidumbre: un sueño falso, una ilusión, un espejismo, un malentendido. una posibilidad.

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