there’s a rose on my table.


I shall not touch you.

you somehow makes
an empty bottle
reminiscence about its glorious nights.

in the mix of lights
you emit your own
while making sure
not all escape in the world
around you.

your leaves breathe
as you stay still
your tilted head
reaching for my eyes.

I shall not touch you.

even when your warm color
invite me to dive deep
in the curiosity of an infant.

and how I love you.

I see more and more
of you, in the
quiet midnight.
you shimmer wildly
on my leftover night

with an empty bottle
of lambrusco, holding you
as the centerpiece of my poem.

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a candid arrogance.


your equivocal smile
curves every hope of mine.
I stretch my hand
so the good can no longer
be distanced.

the blinders protect us
from the outside
that hides in the shadows.
my body encircles itself
with your physical thoughts.

with all the candid arrogance
that this morning light
comes with

it can wait.

pine street.


At the stoplight waiting for the light
hand upon hand
san francisco nine a.m.
we witness the rushed streets
coming to life
bright yellow garbage trucks
with garbagemen in fluorescent blazers
an elegant mercedes
with an elegant couple
remote controlled skateboards
and hip backpacks.

Across the whole world
in the ocean
of this democracy
I stand with you
and the red light for an instant
holding us all close together
in a gravitational composition.
I look at you
as if anything at all is possible.

i’ll find a way to slip into your skin.


from the moment you put down
the weight
of the couch you helped me carry
I noticed little sweat drops
escaping the subtle tangles
of your hair
running into
the shelter of your arms.

i was modestly jealous
how easily they could get
somewhere i’ve been craving
to go, all this long.

in that moment
i promised the foggy city sky
i’ll find a way
to slip into your skin somehow.

how many people.


I wonder how many people
in this city
live on the streets.
late at night
when silence blossoms like tumor on our lips
when even the crickets hesitate
I walk among the shadows
of their past and present.
every face on the sidewalk
looks back at me.
blank stares.
cautious hands.
tired hearts.
and oblivious souls.

I wonder how many people
will come back home
and write this down.

night swimming.


the changing light of the city
whispers to me
as it slowly takes over
the floating land of daydreams,
night swimming into its
foggy arms.

it hides the getaways
and concrete hills
giving way to my reflection
and like yours, it only surfaces up
when my daydreams become
just that, and I,
a fraction of what
my reflection wishes it was.

my thoughts sweep the bay
with the changing light.
a collective existence,
a forceful choice,
all drifting anchorless upon the ocean.