(2014)
No pido disculpas Por escribir Lo que siento Lo que llevo adentro Lo que vivo
The passive-aggressive Guilt trip Is a weak tool For your purpose The sensitive
I am unique In so many ways But while variety excites What we look for Is our common thread
To be a true artist Must they be recluses Crazy mad or sick Or even better dead Show me a healthy artist
Her fingernails Natural Long Pointed On fingers
I find richness In the mixture In what others disdain Young people lost Between two cultures
Does the world need Another book? Another poem? I add one more to the pile To be left alone
No es solo la tristeza Aunque si lo estoy No es por el desanimo Aunque si me desanimo No es tan sencillo
Traffic Irritation becomes a nightmare As the lines start to squiggle Bending in and out And the world starts its attack
I need to tell you How to survive With our disposition It’s okay to cry Maybe
Turkey and dressing Loud and overwhelming Opinions and food fly Green bean casserole Too much laughter
A healthy pancreas Is like a transmission Seamlessly shifting gears In type 2 diabetics Wear and tear
I look away Afraid to see Flicker of nerves In their eye A clench
When I think of my mom I think of malt o meal muffins When I think of my dad Memories of a child Chasing us around the circle
I can feel it coming Decisions I can’t make Brain starts to freeze Fingers won’t work Sick of this disease
