The Big Freeze

This night is crystalline
In its silence,
A silence broken only by
The aching cries of the water,
Its bones being broken by
Winter’s hammer
With its shattering stillness.

In the sky
The Milky Way,
A dragon of a thousand icicles,
Remains perched
Motionless,
Reflecting space
As time is trapped
In a falling crystal.

Ode to Gabriel Garcia Marquez

He is a mountain
Encompassing the world.
His rivers spill over
Onto pages populated
By trees whose leaves
Are each his own
Unique and colorful form.

It is not enough for him
To create the magnificent
Countryside, to wring from every
Stone, every blade of grass,
Every cloud, a teeming universe,
He must make you understand
The secret heart of desire,
Of the anguish experienced
By his creation,
For he writes what we all
Secretly feel:
The crushing weight of being,
The feeling of death already
Eating our bones.

His words are mouthfuls of blood
Scratched from the desperate
Colombian soul,
Lifetimes of solitude and surrender,
Of soil soaked in blood,
Centuries that laugh and weep
With ironic tears.

Therefore, after traversing
His lyrical mountains,
One does not know
Whether to laugh or cry
Or to simply die
With handfuls of dust
And diamonds.

Always the sea

So near the sea
The days lose themselves
Since there are no numbered
Ways to measured her days,
To perceive her passage,
No way to receive her waves
Without losing parts of yourself.

Today could be yesterday
But how can I know?
Her face bears similar feature
To the gravestone of every year,
She shows cryptic resemblance
To ritual grieving, or
The periodic remembrance
Of catacombs for dreams.

Always the sea.
Always the sea,
All ways lead to her ceaseless
Increase and decrease,
Describing days,
Inscribing her fingerprints ashore,
Erasing the footprints of passing time.