Thursday, November 26, 2009

Pixelated Window

I can't tell if I can't see
when the windows are covered
in drops from the breeze
the pixelated scene is pulsing-
a heart-throb or a clouded dream.

Service on an Autumn's Night

For Hannah

I told her I would write her poetry.
What was it she expected of me?

That night on the rooftop of
Mequita's roparia with the purple
haze of the Sears Tower beckoning
behind you, we gave into our
guttural laughter until our collapse gave
heed to the creaks in the asphalt shingles.

I told you I would write you poetry.