Within Four Walls I Dream
Dreaming against four walls,
I surrender,
sliding into the verticality
of my existence.
I find comfort in my heart beat,
in the flow of my breath,
in the journey that my joints take within the four walls.
Dreaming within four walls,
pushing, pulling,
pulsating, palpitating,
spreading myself beyond the four walls.
Dreaming beyond four walls,
I am.
(From the collection “DancePoetry in Pandemic Times”)
Poem in Motion VII
I am rain penetrating clay.
I am clay softening up with the wright of rain.
I am a river growing, disappearing in soil.
I grow.
Rain
Mud
River
I exist in the point of contact.
Water Earth Minerals
Blood Bones Creation
Sensing Support
I reach out for support.
I connect and grasp myself into your embrace.
I sink my weight and slide into infinity.
(From the collection “DancePoetry in Pandemic Times”)
Transplanted Roots
Roots are resilience.
In East Harlem gardens grip to the ground in confined
spaces. Among old tenement buildings and new luxury
spaces. Among old tenement buildings and new luxury
condos, Puerto Ricans plant remnants of the tropics.
In the summer they gather in the gardens to celebrate
birthdays and anniversaries. Men roast a pig on a spit and play
dominoes. Women cook rice and peas, fry plantains, and wear
a flower on their heads. They all dance to the rhythms of the
drums, Salsa and romantic Boleros, rooting themselves in urban
soil, like transplanted plants.
birthdays and anniversaries. Men roast a pig on a spit and play
dominoes. Women cook rice and peas, fry plantains, and wear
a flower on their heads. They all dance to the rhythms of the
drums, Salsa and romantic Boleros, rooting themselves in urban
soil, like transplanted plants.
Roots are resilience.
In the winter the gardens lose their luxurious colors. If you
pass by, pay attention.
pass by, pay attention.
If you do, you will see a red rose blooming in the snow. It’s
a plastic flower planted by the Puerto Ricans who refuse
a plastic flower planted by the Puerto Ricans who refuse
to uproot themselves from the tropics.
Poema en Moción
Soy la lluvia penetrando el barro.
Soy el barro ablandando con el peso de la lluvia.
Soy un río creciendo,
desapareciendo en la tierra.
Crezco.
Lluvia
Barro
Río
Soy un río creciendo
Huesos Sangre Creación
