New papers, so new, so clean, so pure,
so ready to receive a perfect poem.
Novel papers in fancy colors and artistic design
lay in front of me challenging me to produce a masterpiece
that would suit their fancy integrity.
But flawless papers paralyze my brain,
they seem appropriate for Dante, Valery, Neruda,
but not for me, a purported poet.
I rather write on magazine’s margins,
on the back of a receipt, on lunch bags or book covers.
Used papers are polluted, they don’t demand perfection,
shabby papers are garbage and my poems dignify them.
Writing on napkins that host coffee, cake or tobacco
gives those pieces of unwanted paper a new life
and they make me feel needed too.
I put my the scribbled papers in my pocket
with the old ones
making the anthology of my life.
At the gym
They come to sweat, to puff, to expand,
Pursuing dreams of youth, image, wholeness.
Some muscles want bulk while others desire sculptured abs.
They move in rhythmic ways in front of strategic mirrors,
After each push, the muscles check the mirror
Expecting a bigger arm, a slimmer waist a luring glow.
They lift tons of weight and ego everyday,
But they are never satisfied.
Dressed in brand name rags
Males and females check other’s skin
And compare them with their own coat.
The muscles crave attention and
Hope that their flesh will be the door to their inner self.
They spend a great deal of time and effort shaping their meat
And consume grotesque amounts of vitamins and supplements
To fuel their dreams.
The muscles want more energy to lift more pounds,
Buy books, magazines and tapes to get the motivation.
Gladiators of the gym, heroes of themselves
Fantasize about getting the admiration that their
Under worked brains don’t yield to them.
I don’t need titles
I don’t need titles, PhD's, Suma cum laude to write poems,
I don’t need permits, licenses, registrations to say what I feel.
I only need to look for my own answers when a doubt arises.
I don’t have all the answers it’s true,
but I always look in all directions, colors and times.
And I never let a minister, a president, a doctrine or a book
limit my mind.