La Llorona

Drifting in and out of here or there

Monday, October 23, 2006

My child one

Brown, cinnamon smell in the kitchen. She is a wave in my heart. Her lashes play with my cheek remembered. I cried when.
She did not sing. She floated confused in the darkness. A last wail of maman in the night. The cold took her smallness fast.
The mud she loved didn't see her.
But I remember my little girl, playing outside in the straw and the warm mud of spring. It caked her hair and her toes as she giggled in delight. And I had to laugh I could not scold.

Thursday, October 12, 2006


I can smell blood today, I think it drifts from the past across the ocean from the lands of my fathers and mothers where war and damage were par for the course. I can smell blood in the river bosque where distant memories put me on horseback although I no longer know what is a horse. Cottonwood trees even set my drifting aside because teh ancients are becoming more real than today to my floating existance.
But where are my children.
Anna so brown, so dark and laughing. Not shy with her hair in bright ribbons and black braids. And Andreas with his big eyes and eyelashes to the sky and liquid tears which never fell to his cheeks but set the reflection of the moon off.
Where are my children? Where are my children?
I can smell blood today.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Create me
flow me, can't I have original thought but only under the sun and I don't know how long it has really been since I saw the sun.
create me create me create me. Let me out of this box.
Of Pandora where are you when I need you. I just want to live.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Taking out the trash

Taking out the trash, I wander through the garbage of my mind
How, I say, can I even have a mind for I am of the death world.
Am I an echo?
I don't feel like an echo.
I think, I feel the wind, I feel the thoughts and senses of the living.
I am
I know that
but what am I?