1 Poem 1 Song 1 Photo
El Fin del Mundo
To the man with the toupee
who shakes his fingers
like James Baldwin Jazz
To the man with the mustache
who grins like grains
on fire
To the man with the oval face
who cries
like Guanaco snow
To the man who claps
like shots on San Martin
that howl with the strays
To the director drunk at the bar
sipping on a blonde
like thirst itself
To the painter, screaming
with paint for the sun
to stay awake
To the Patron rosy with thought
like the taste
of a garden apple
To the writer
stuck in a New York minute
like Tango dancers pressed
AgainsT the MorninG
“4 Pages that-a-way”
Lonely days alone I think of you
You come to me like that 40’s ad
Frozen smile, smilin’ the way you do.
We went for a walk down to the metal café
You giggled of the time we met,
Two pens in my pocket, facin’ the other way.
How can I kiss hurt so much?
The tender memory of a touch
From our hope and tears
Down the road, oh loveless fears.
You told me it was a letter you had to write
So I gave you a pen, knowing full well
The lover was time, and you were sayin’ bye tonight.
Two years later the message still in stone
Fingers locked in windy love
Time was tongue tied, why oh why the moan?
How can I kiss hurt so much?
The tender memory of a touch
From our hope and tears
Down the road, oh loveless fears.
Why can’t we give it another go?
Things are different now,
Babe I promise, I’m in a different flow.
That’s the way of things
Alone and dreamin’
Two children on hapless swings.
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