little girl
your tiny breaths
contain the breath of life

as you doze
a whole universe inside of you
is expanding and bursting into life

I cannot shield you from
the joys and pains of life
but what I can be is a
stable and consistent
loving presence in your life

I will try to stay in the now
and not get all bent out of shape about
puttin' the fear of God in the boys and/or girls you date
for now, I will be a sane daddy that
holds you while you gently sleep

just remember when daddy gets a little crazy
I still love you

I will try to remember the same when
me and mommy stay up late at night waiting for you
hold you and soothe you as you cry out through the night
and even when you grow up and say "I hate you."
I will say "thank you. I love you."

but for now, I am glad you are just dozing in my arms
a tiny little being without a care in the world
daddy is here to change your poopy diapers
and rock you to sleep

I know I may be a bother sometimes.
Even annoying you might say.
But it's only because I care about you.

I may push too hard,
or hold you too tight,
and I don't want to crush your Wings.

You know, they say opposites attract.
But I don't think we're that different.

Maybe a little broken,
a little crazy,
a little weird,
but I love it.

You're you,
And I'm me,
And there's nowhere I'd rather be.

when our metal collided,
forming a beautiful mess of flames and exchanged paint,
they dragged my unrecognizable hunk of meat,
fire still dancing on my skin,
to a blinding, sterilized building smelling of alcohol and copper
usually reserved for bullets in the chest and praying mothers.

they pricked my arms and legs and chest and everywhere in between.
never was there a moment
where cool palms were not smoothing down
the few strands of hair still attached to my scalp.

howls never failed to fill the night-
every night-
and my father joined the wolf pack
once they whispered
"we have some bad news."

their methods had failed to see my body perfect again.
but what they didn't know
is that instead of dripping recycled blood
down the tubes jammed in the holes decorating my skin,
they should have poured words
in to my running river veins.

Do not call me beautiful
I will not believe you
I've gone through too much
All those days I rue

I will not believe you
After looking in mirrors
I have come to a conclusion
That leaves many in tears

The angle I see myself
Is different than your own
Don't tell me I'm beautiful
Too much I have grown

Do not call me beautiful
I won't believe you
I've gone through too much
All those days I rue

I can imagine no stillness more perfect
than a winter night
When the snow has caressed the barren landscape
to purify it in white in preparation for the approaching spring
The trees no longer teem with chattering cicadas
only the sound of descending phosphorescent flakes
Cars dare not brave the treacherous streets as they once did
when the sun shown high and mighty
Like a doughty king
Lest we forget the encroaching tides upon the shores
that he shown over
He blinds us with his vivid blazes
reflected off the frozen ground at morning
but for now it is the time of night
when everything is still
An era we like to pretend will be infinite
Could we stay a little longer?
pondering how to articulate the sound of snow falling
Let us make this a grand masquerade
of feigning to be more than what we are
In this one moment let us be
As grand as the whitewash of winter
Although we are but little things
to the biting chill of an arctic storm
let us at least be drifting snowflakes
Intricate and lustrous for a time before the thaw
Where we will once a again
be returned to the earth

Calm Down
You have a full life to live

I am from soft hushes of Spanish lullabies

From the coaxing voice of my mother.

I am the smoke blowing out of Lionel trains

Orders being asserted on the speaker overhead

From the controlling voice of my father.

I am from the hiding spots around the house

The muffled loveless shouting 

Serving as a backdrop throughout the days

A one-sided bitter sham.

I’m from simmering heat year round 
From king the tut and Felix the cat.

I’m the happy go lucky type on the outside

And the riddled with worry on the inside.

From let’s wing it! On some days 

To a sense of working myself sick to be prepared on others.

I’m from steaming milk and coffee 
With some hurricane pancakes 

To temporarily erase the pains of yesterday.

I’m from a locked away Spanish origin 
English and American hammered into my brain.

(Never my soul.) 

From the son my grandmother lost

To the black storming water,

The life my father was forced to replace.

Spanish poems rest dusty hidden away.

Turning a blind eye

Only looked over in secrecy 

Our artistic side

A lineage of writers, artists.

I am those words 

They are my second skin

Rising from the shadows.