13.

Why people love vampires
Because it's distressing to wake up
Every morning knowing that there are
A thousand things that could kill you
And that one day one of them
Will.

11./12.

Bottle blue tide pool
Smoothed by wind and glazed with salt
Shows the moon her face

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two drowsy tadpoles
Speckled like sun through the reeds
Dream of bright green legs

10.

Vernacular

Lozenge of Love! Medallion of Art!

No, that kind of proclamation requires

A dizzy quantity of nausea-inducing emotion.

Yet one can understand why they hurl

Themselves forward without any attempt

At tempering their own bravado.

Everyone at 17 is a rock star, a sylph,

Desirable to vampires, flawless and

New. It’s not because of the Internet or

Cell phones, but you can’t speak their

Language anymore. A vernacular that

Assured can only be unlearned with age.

9.

Ghosts

Heads toward the wall,

Feet toward the street,

With a barrier of boxes

Full of badly painted clay

Mushrooms and model

Churches and pumpkins

With twisted vines. Now

We are ready to sleep.

Exhausted from a day

Of standing at traffic

Lights, we are not woken

By curious couples coming

Home from dinner, or

Garbage men shouting or

The last buses shouldering

Each other out of the way.

If we were, maybe we would

Find it odd that we command

More attention asleep than

Awake. That as shapeless,

Shadowless silhouettes

We are seen more clearly

Than when unmistakably

Highlighted by the blazing sun.

8.

Luna menguante
luna menguante:
proa de crucero,
uña de gigante,
viruta de lapicero,

oreja de genio,
raja de melón,
alfanje damasquino,
pinza de escorpión.

No rhyming in the English version, sorry:(
Crescent Moon
crescent moon:
ship's prow,
giant's thumbnail,
pencil shaving,

genie's ear,
canteloupe slice,
Turkish scimitar
scorpion's claw.

7.

Carretera
El paisaje al
Lado de la
Carretera
Se parece
A otro. No
Sé si es
Nostalgia o
Añoro pero
Los cactus se
Convierten en
Pinos, el olor
A tierra seca
Se vuelve el
De las madreselvas
Después de
Una lluvia de
Verano. Los años
Se quitan como
El caucho de
Una llanta y hay
Que preguntarse
¿Cuántas facetas
Tiene la vida
De alguien?

Highway
The scenery on
Either side of
This highway
Resembles that of
Another. I don't
Know if it's
Homesickness or
Nostalgia but the
Cacti turn into
Pines, the smell of
Dry earth becomes
That of honeysuckles
After a summer rain,
The years are
Stripped away like
The tread from
A tire and it
Begs the question:
How many facets
Does a single
Life have?

6.

Limpísimo

Martita sueña

Que su esposo

Entra y le dice:

¡Mi amor, en la vida

Habia visto un piso

Tan limpio como

Éste! Flor de

La mañana, angelita,

Chiquistriquis de mi

Corazón, ven, ¡VEN

A mí, para desvestirte

Aquí sobre este piso

Tan impecable!

El esposo de Martita sueña

Que Jordan juega otra vez

Con los Bulls.

Squeaky

Martha dreams

That her husband

Walks in and says:

My love, never in my life

Have I seen a floor

As clean as

This one! Morning

Glory, Angel Face,

Hunny Wunny

Cakes, come, COME

To me that I might

Disrobe you here on

This immaculate floor!

Martha’s husband dreams

That Jordan plays for

The Bulls again. 

5.

El general (villanelle)

 Ojos que no ven, corazón que no siente.

 El general ofrece sólo un consejo:

 Ten tu pistola siempre presente.

 De niño, su mama siempre estuvo ausente.

 No rozó su mejilla ni con un sólo beso.

 Ojos que no ven, corazón que no siente.

 De joven, se convirtió en creyente.

 Por él sólo una ley, una ley de hierro existió:

 Ten tu pistola siempre presente.

 De adulto, quería salir con vida, simplemente.

 Supo que sólo en la tierra existe el infierno.

 Ojos que no ven, corazón que no siente.

 De viejo, mantenía ágil la mente.

 Afilada la lengua, agudo el oído.

 Y tenía su pistola siempre presente.

 Sentado en su butaca, le decía a la gente,

 El amor a mí nunca falta me hizo.

 Ojos que no ven, corazón que no siente.

 Ten tu pistola siempre presente.

The translation is a teense odd, but I was trying to translate and maintain the rhyme scheme, bleh!

The General (villanelle)

The heart can’t feel what the eyes don’t see.

The general offers only one piece of advice:

A Beretta 92 is all a man needs.  

As a child, his mother paid him no heed,

Or filled his bedtime stories with intrigue and lies.

The heart can’t feel what the eyes don’t see.

As an adolescent, he developed his creed.

Winning is paramount, no matter the price.

A Beretta 92 is all a man needs.

As a man, he learned from foul deeds

That Earth is the only place one feels Hell’s fires.

The heart can’t feel what the eyes don’t see.

 As an old man, he felt quite at ease,

 With the power he’d bought with men’s lives.

 A Beretta 92 is all a man needs..

Sitting back in his chair, he'd say to the breeze

Love? That’s not what keeps a man alive.

The heart can’t feel what the eyes don’t see.

A Beretta 92 is all a man needs.

4.

 Parque Bicentenario

Las niñas juegan un ratito en unos juegos
Con extraños palmares azules encima,

Y piedritas afiladas abajo,

Hasta que empiezan a cantar,

¡Tenemos que ir al baño!

No van hacía la casa, sino hacía el río;

Juran que saben donde se puede.

Los árboles que bordan el río

Están rodeados por girasoles

Marchitados por el sol, que emiten

Un olor embriagador de junípero.

El refri y las botellas de cerveza

Provocan remolinos hipnotizantes que
Llenan la tarde con un murmullo somnoliento.

Las niñas suben el banco agarradas

Por la mano y, de repente, las veo con

Otros ojos.  Ojos que ven como los árboles

Y las flores ocultan todo de la vista y

Como el agua es lo único que se escucha,

Como las niñas también pueden ser marchitadas

Por algo seco, inhumano e incompasivo.

Bicentennial Park

The girls play for a bit on a jungle gym

With inexplicably blue palm trees on top

And sharp little stones below,

Until they start to sing,

We need to go to the bathroom!

Instead of home, they make for the river;

They swear they know a place.

The trees that border the river

Are surrounded by sunflowers,

Desiccated by the sun, which emit

The heady smell of juniper.

An old fridge and beer bottles

Provoke hypnotizing eddies, which

Fill the afternoon with a drowsy buzz.

The girls come up the bank hand in

Hand and suddenly I see them with

Different eyes.  Eyes that see how the

Trees and flowers screen everything,

How the only thing you hear is the water,

How girls can also be withered by

Something dry, inhuman and unfeeling. 

3.

Lunar
Enmarcada por ramos extendidos,

La luna se apodera de la noche.

Las estrellas huyen sin mirar por atrás,

Mientras el cuerpo celestial egomaníaco

Se estira, se acomoda, inhala y

Sopla con todo lo que tiene.

Los lobos y los poetas se enloquecen,

La marea se tensa y se afloja,

Ciclando con el aliento frenético de la luna,

Quien, inconstante, se cansa de un juego

Que nunca gana y se achica, esperando a

Las estrellas, que le cantan hasta al amanecer.

Lunar

Framed by outstretched branches,

The moon seizes the night.

The stars flee without a look back,

As the egomaniacal celestial body

Stretches, gathers itself, inhales and

Blows out its cheeks.

Wolves and poets alike go mad,

The tide becomes taut and then slackens,

Cycling with the frenetic breathing of the moon,

Who, inconstant, becomes tired of a game

It never wins, and shrinks, awaiting the return of

The stars, who sing to it until dawn. 

2.

Sueño Borroso
Las paredes del color de una mora azul,

Peludas y onduladas cómo una cóclea,

Absorben todo sonido y luz y dejan

Una sensación de bocina volada. 

Por ellas se pasa en cámara lenta,

Dando vueltas con un zumbido ligero

Y la sensación de que uno está

Nadando en un río de mermelada espesa. 

Tal víspera de ingravidez deja los

Músculos de los brazos y las piernas

Tan flojos como un fideo recocido,

Sensación que se mantiene al despertar.

TRANSLATION!

Fuzzy Dream
The blueberry-colored walls,
Fuzzy and coiled as a cochlea,
Absorb all sound and light and leave
A sensation like a blown speaker.

One passes through them in slowmo,
Spinning with a mild buzzing sound,
And the sensation that one is
Swimming in a river of thick jam.

Such a night of weightlessness leaves
The muscles of the arms and legs
As slack as an overcooked noodle,
A sensation which continues upon waking.

1.

Expatronizing
I don’t have to compete with any of you 

Because I have removed myself.

Your brands, trends, Land's Ends, 
Cannot hope to trump my duds, woven by

Indigenous women who gossip in a language 

In which colors are verbs.

As you eat your Greek yogurt and drink your 

Shade-grown Guatemalan coffee bought at Starbucks,

I sip coffee that has been pooped out 

By a civet, and eat quesadillas made with cheese

Prepared by Benedictine nuns who wake up

At 4 to milk Trinity, the three-legged cow, 

Before the Office of Vigils. 

In your Hybrid you listen to Buena Vista Social Club

And pride yourself on how international 

and naughty you are (they're Cuban!), 

But I take a bus with no glass in the windows to work,

Accompanied by chickens and stoic children

And a live trio of drunk octogenarians who croon

"Hemingway delira" while miraculously maintaining 

Their balance as the bus dodges potholes, dogs and fallen palm fronds. 

NaPoWriMo 2012

Bunble Bee will wake up soon.