April 3, 2012

i gave so much of me,
i’m claiming bankruptcy
because the deficit has left me
owing myself an apology.

i took out a loan.
’cause in the right market
i can make Love’s stock soar.


i am not sure what happened,
but i have no fight left.

Love has beaten it out.

the lesson at school is clear though:

commit to Self.

i return to my core.
to replenish depleted areas.
to reconnect to that which
makes me whole. to pay back
myself for my Self-neglect.

everything else.

in time.

into place.


March 2, 2012

i wish i had a magic wand
to wave across that maurader’s map
and see if we could, just see
a clearer picture of ourselves.

i wish i had a crystal ball
that spins on an axis
and see if we could, just see
a better image of our souls.

i wish i had a deck of cards
with no jokers, all hearts
and see if we could, just see
a full house of hope.

i wish i had a time machine
that goes back into the future
and see if we could, just see
timeless Love.

i wish i had… the answer to our heart’s insecurities.

hasta la vista

February 9, 2012

ella miro
tan profundamente
en mis ojos.
me dijo que los llevaba color ambar
y que en ellos llevaba fósiles
de amor.

ella no podia quitar su mirada de mi,
y yo no queria cerrar los ojos
para no perder su vista.

pero mis ojos se fueron con mi cuerpo,
tomaron vuelo…
y ella perdió mi mirada
en una noche oscura.

debut y despedida

February 2, 2012

con cada debut
hay una despedida.

El Cantante lo canto,
“todo tiene su final,
nada dura para siempre.
tenemos que recordar
que no existe eternidad.”

ella llego un día de otoño.
ese primer cariño que te hace
creer en el Amor mas que en Dios.

un amor joven. juguetón.
lleno de ilusiones.
para niñas que creían que las fantasías
se harían realidad.

su despedida fue tan triste…
y con ella se fue mi inocencia.

luego llego aquella
que siendo Mujer madura,
llena de ternura me enseño a
Amar como Mujer.

y deje lo de niña.

con ella aprendí
que la paciencia es
lo mas importante
en una relación.

pero la edad nos traiciono,
el espacio venció al Amor.
y con ella se fue mi fe.

pasaron los años…

y en un mar caribe encontré
la profundidad de Amar
a primer flechazo.

aprendí que no se puede
oprimir sentimiento. que
existen poetas que se visten
de gerentes.

pero… el Amor se esfumo
en una noche caliente y fría.

ahí aprendí la lección
mas triste de mi vida:
el Amor no todo lo puede.

y con ella se fue mi esperanza.

otras mas pasaron.
entre las razones
hubo cansancio. pereza.
desilusión. falta de comunicación.

aquí queda un caparazón
sin trozos de lo que fue.
solo el recuerdo.
tratando de recobrar
fe, esperanza y algo de inocencia.

¿por qué le pedimos
eternidad a simple mortales?

¿por qué será que creemos
en el Amor con tanta certeza,
hasta quedar tan ciegos
que nos estallamos contra la misma pared
una y otra vez?

y si en cada debut hay despedida,
¿para que subir el telón
y sentarnos a vivir la obra?

will & testament

January 12, 2012

on may 3, 1993
abuela had her homecoming.
at the time of her death,
eight of her eleven children
were alive.

they headed
to her one bedroom
apartment on the 4th floor
of 1295 amsterdam ave.

her silver spoon collection
had airline logos. so did
some of her plates.

she had seventeen jars
filled with buttons.
she fastened love
on coats, and hats, and gloves
that kept us warm.

each of her daughters
kept one of her batas.
my mother kept a red wool
bandana she wore around
her head all-winter.

one of my uncles
just wanted the cassette tapes
where she recorded herself
singing church music.

they found ten dollar bills
wrapped in napkins in all sorts of places:
in pockets, in books, in vases.
almost a thousand dollars…
it was used to fly her body
to Puerto Rico.

my mother kept a hairbrush
(hairs included). the siblings split
up photo albums. her rocking chair
was the most coveted item…
her “favorite” son got to keep that.

trinkets. figurines. plants.
pots. pans. mugs. furniture.
they all wanted something
tangible to hold on to…

when our parents die
there are no assets to discuss.
no lawyer who will ask
to sign the dotted line.

our inheritance is debt.
the heirlooms
are untangibles:

memories. lessons. Love.

i’ve forgotten the sound
of my grandmother’s voice.
‘cept i remember the raspiness
of it like an old friend.

i remember her words.
no matter how harsh their truth,
her advice was always gentle.
i cannot forget her faith,
it was unshakeable.

if it took a while to see better days,
my grandmother created them
through laughter.

she had a noncupative
will & testament:

her will was that we remain a close family.
her testament was the way she lived her life:
humble. honest. faithFULL.

may i always honor her will and may my life be an extension of her testament.


a gift for Love

January 7, 2012

i’ve been shopping
searching in all places
for the perfect gift
to give Love.

the bookstore shelves
stacked with titles
on how to,
recovering love…

i knew Love
didn’t need to know
what it has endured
throughout its lifetime.

thought perhaps
if i bought it something
intimate, i could dress her
in sexiness.
but Love knows
that victoria doesn’t know
the real secret
has nothing
to do with the lingerie.

so, on i went.
entered little shops
with trinkets and pendants
but nothing stood out.

thought about feeding
it the most decadent chocolates
but Love has always been sweet enough.

there it was,
the perfect gift.

i wanted something
that looked classy. a bit rustic.
something… that would tell it
what my words have yet to express.

so i bought Love a watch.

with the hopes that it
would finally arrive


December 4, 2011

i bet you can
taste her on your lips
three lifetimes later.

the last time
she made love to you
was so sweet,
you’ve been packaging
it in candy wrappers
and selling them
for a nickel.

this is not refined sweetness.

she stirred your soul
with sugar cane sticks.
while you bit her rawness…
she caramelized your fingers.

it is possible to taste her
lifetimes later…
she has crystalized
your heart.


December 1, 2011

in the time and space
that exist in the geography
of distance

a sometimes
uncanny moment
that shows the illusion
to be real

there are days
i feel you so close
i swear you never left


here you are
sitting in the void
i think is empty.

one is only as far away
as the heart that misses them.

so really, you’re not gone

if every beat
pounds your name
on my chest
escapes from my lips
with every word i speak
you are heavy on my tongue.

a gypsy, you come and go
traveling through my veins
with an expired passport.

my circulatory system
carries your dna

i begin to bleed you out…

so that i may let Her in.

birthday wish

November 30, 2011

when i met you, you were just 26 years young…

i will be celebrating 59 years of the gift of your life on friday, dec 2.

how beautiful your light. how comforting your words. what sweet sound of love your voice.

i know that i am not the expectation you had for me… i know you pray that i will change… i know you wish me different…

but i… i think you’re the most beautiful blessing in my life. and i wouldn’t change anything about you. not even the parts that wish me different than who i am.

i wish you health. laughter. Love. blessings that shower your worries every day. i wish for you strength. courage. an unshakeable faith.

i wish for you peace of mind and heart. that all your hearts wishes come true… except the one that keeps me in your prayers under the disguise of your beliefs.

i Love you Mami. in ways that lead me to frustrated enlightenment: i am at peace with all that you are. i will meet you where you stand.

may your days be filled with an uncontainable happiness.


November 24, 2011

i need substance.

adventures are for youth,
and i seek a journey.

all that i am.
the sweet and the sour.

taste the corners of my worries.
eat the edges of my sorrows.
digest my spirit, while i season my soul.

touch my intellect. find ways to move my heart
from the center of my chest to the palm of my hands
so that i may give it to you without fear.

smell the scent of my passions.
learn where it is exactly that,
with a single gaze,
you can arch my back
and curve into me.

study my moods.
turn the pages
of my poetic truth
into sonnets.
make music on the keys
of my ribs. play drums
on my breasts.
i can be a sweet song
on your lips.

…if what you want is a journey.