The Acentos Review

Two

Like the willowy silence of spring
you dance happy with yourself,
a larkful of color

bright upon the reef of sunset.

You growl dinosaurs at me,
and you laugh melodically
at my surprise.
How symmetry and balance
make you bubble with exuberance.
How smiles of twinkling giggles
echo in your bright brown eyes.

How I want to share in your experience:

mud-toes, tadpoles, stony sneakers,
and yellow-orange joy.
The pirate ships will take you
where I cannot go,
but if you let me peek blue-wonder
through your delicious jump-rope eyes,
I promise songs and kisses,
lilting lullabies,
mist balloons and unicorns,
a good-night song versed with kings
and wondrous princes,
a shoe-fly dragon, too,
to fill your penguin smile
with playground puppets
and purple parrot dreams.

Vanilla Victory

Insanity sometimes reigns in my house
mixed a bit with chaos subdued.

Right, I say to my child who says she cannot sleep.

And as I listen to her,
I think fish thoughts
of vapor and of diamonds.

So then she smiles.
Tooth bleach white smile
loving sparkling eyes
that sing green words.

And I say no more please no
and once more I supplicate.

Yet my no croons walls to her please oh please.
She then smiles again
that crumpled twinkle.
She pleads blue moons,
she utters daddy please oh please

And I say no again.

Just then the river waves come near.
The chocolate candy bar melts in her eyes
and makes me laugh.

The ice cream truck wings wickedly about,
singing ecstasy
with raspberry filling, lickings, and allspice.

So then I laugh and then I sing
and then I finally
and totally give up the tub.

Her big brown eyes
open wide—
smiles that are gaping in that moonshine,
luster of tongues in lollypop flavors and
kingdoms by the sea.

Buoyantly she licks her vanilla victory
satisfied in her candied gaze:
and she deems a kiss a touch my way.

 

Lump

It began
with a luscious
lascivious
leap lulling
the slide,
A swift smooth
softly caressing
slithering ride
Down down
the smooth silver mantle.
And yet it would not last.
I got to the bottom.
Tortuously
slow by the end,
And up
I went again
but this time,
no.
How could I go anywhere but spiraling deep down into non-existence?

So up, I soared skyward, rising quickly enough through the clouds
But down I went and around again, smothering at the bottom
Like a pile of dung descending
Straining to make it up.
But no no I kept
swinging
back and forth
Like a pendulum.

Umbrella upside down catching rivulets of rain.
Soaking in it, drowning in it, tumbling unabashedly in it.
Until finally, with a swoosh of fervor I rushed up and flourished.

So up the perilous path I proceeded, gathering strength, trying my
Hardest not to desist. I had to keep going up up up. If not.
What would happen to my momentum?
My speed, my light
Of days?
I could not fathom it. I could not plummet like a sinking ship
Toward earth, that beastly place of nightmares, of endless dreams.
Of death.
No, I was meant to transcend disease,
to pick myself up and fly more and more toward
paradise, transforming my nightmare into pure delight. Enchantment.
So I
struggled
onward, up and
around, trying my
hardest to fly the right
way, to keep from faltering,
from falling downward to the end
of no return. Sadness would never let
me stay my course. Awkward in my
intent, I tried to think of another
way to survive, to keep on
sailing the rugged seas.
But no, I was too far 
Gone, too unsteady 
To keep up.
I stopped.
I reached
My heaven 
Only in 
My mind.
I alone
Stood
Looking
Feeling
Crying
Realizing
That I
Had
No
One
But
Myself.
Alone.

But
Firm.

La rueda divinamente

Cansada,
voy viajando
sin moverme
del placer que conocí.

"Interrógame", besó el gaucho.
pantalones (achaflanados),
rizos largos,
boca rota
sin abrir.

"Arrepiente tus sangrientas risas".

"Mira, ojos fuego —
sálvate del pedir".

Dijo el chiflado loco:
"Vente, corre llaga.
Los apezunados duermen
mal en los hongos alucinantes
del proceso vergonzoso,

y recuerdan
temporadas más allá
del hoy en si".

Moriremos todos.

Yo cansada.
Arrepentido té de mi.

Aunque la rueda divinamente
sigue, sigue
y no se cansa.

Ni de ti...

Ni de mi...

The wheel of fortune

An interpretation, not a translation 
(because translation is never poetry)

Weary
I do travel
without moving
from the
pleasure I once knew.

"Question me," kissed the gaucho.
Trousers (somewhat slanted, angled),
long curls falling,
broken mouth
agape.

"Repent your bloody laughter."

"Look, eyes of fire — 
save yourself the say-so."

That crazy lunatic keeps on raving:
"Come now, running sore.
The stepped upon sleep poorly
in hallucinogenic shrooms
of a shameful process,

yet distinguish
seasons past
today itself."

We all die.

I am tired.
Repentant you of me.

Though the wheel of fortune
chases onward, chases onward,
never tiring.

Not of you...

Not of me...