My idol walks. Behold her beauty
born of Nicaraguan night
summoning poetic duty:
tremors of volcanic light!
Clouds of ash and lava dropping:
I come back… I going shopping.

Sounding her primeval waters
crater lakes, her green lagoons,
fabulous—this diverse daughter’s
humid palms and storm-tossed moons;
ascending up her jungle mount:
Transfer dinero to my account!

Stone-faced idol, pre-conquista;
rice with beans or sacred maize
labyrinthine Latin vista,
cumbias and sacred lays.
Hurricanes and quaking earth:
******, what’s your dollar worth?

She who left her quaint dysfunction
reeking of colonial woes
for the multi-culti junction,
holy in her *****-pose;
scowling like exploited nations:
How you say… congratulations!

Gushing like a flow of lava
running down her placid gaze,
ripened flesh; the scent of guava,
passion-fruit in paraphrase…
Monkeys howling, torrents pouring:
Poetry to me is boring…

Rubén Darío’s wonderland:
Flor de Caña the anesthetic.
Marx’s tropic reprimand:
Sandinismo as emetic.
Verses don’t impress this lass:
Please—the car need fill with gas.

Lost in hurricanes of thought,
pounding the roof, God pours, it rains.
What was it, really, that I sought
In her land where the poetry reigns ?
It’s love. At times I long to shoot her:
Why you waste time on that computer?

Standing here, in 90-degree land
Where nothing is right
But the drink in my hand

Sweet saving coolness, fine eastern breeze!
I welcome thee warmly,
I welcome you, please

Stand fans may blow this languor away,
But I cannot stand
These bills I must pay

Summer is hot on my heels as I run
Through prickly white sands
– and the daydream is gone

In thick sticky air, seconds trickle and crawl
As sweat from my temples
To the sides of my jaw

The sun's got a fever and my blood could be boiling
I laze inch by inch though my insides are roiling
To be productive in this haze – this hell of a heatwave
But instead I'm in bed, just rotting and spoiling

stuck pig
injecting
in a tiny house
on a green island
raining
a jungle of
cable
internet a
septic
tank
I run a
maze
grow bananas
wait for delivery
departure
line up
for my plastic
sippy cup
eat
pancakes
stack
Bromantane
for breakfast
nootropics
family
replacement
new tropical
smoothie
maker
prime member
of the Amazon
got to stimulate
my work in the garden
see that
water feature
it’s a duck pond
no it’s
an empty kiddy pool
but on a tree
I’m over it
an antler bromeliad
hunting trophy
a certification
of my triumph
the plot
next to it
my head
in the mail
a miniature guillotine
to repatriate
my body
and tail
still moving

I felt the earth at the back of my hand
Resting my head in these warm grass
As it tickles my skin
I look up keenly
A caprice has struck my reverie
Drawn to this tree
laden with plethora of leaves
Whilst the wind sings a familiar melody
You engulf my miseries
Hues of orange, red and green
Heraldic of revivification
Mesmeric elegance
You flail these leaves
Scroop of vigor
with the glint of sunlight
Scintillating glow
Gentle serenity
Where do you hide your sorrows?
Your mystery enthralling
I am defeated by your beauty



-Talisay, Margaret Austin Go

A frangipani candle,
Sandalwood perfume
The shimmer of the shadows,
That light up the room

A hard covered book
With a silver inscription,
Warm jasmine tea,
Baklava from the kitchen

Soft red lipstick
And a robe of white silk
Dark lash rimmed eyes,
A bath of rose petals, floating in milk

Sweet drifting music
From the balmy outside,
The chirping of cicadas
And the whisper of the tide

Gentle gold jewellery
Which can carry you away
A feather pillow on the wooden floor,
The start
                          To the end
                                                       Of the day

I see green,
I see blue,
I see careless clouds,
Fleeting about in hues;
I see sparkles of white,
I see days full and bright.

And then it comes,
The haze that blinds,
The sun scorches down,
The green turns brown;
And though the illusion of mist;
No more do I see.

The birds stop their song,
I wonder why,
The hills turn brown,
And again I wonder;
If anyone cared,
If anyone sees.

I pave my way through the crowds,
As I breathe through cloth,
Up and down,
Left and right,
Everyone seems to be,
Trapped in this tropical haze.