I'm an Anagram

08

2007-12-27T14:31:00.000-08:00

I have a number etched on my chest
this muscle
it runs a marathon
to be a hero of races
to cross your finish line

I am not the house builder
I am not the surgeon
I am the runner, the sprinter

You bang on this drum
I beat
breathe
exhale

I am the runner, the sprinter
demolishing walls
rushing the blood

I rush.

Z.D.

i float

2006-04-26T01:32:00.000-07:00

sun polish has gone
streets clogged by wrappers and newspapers
rain ankle deep
tenement sponges soaking up excess
of this drumming of gray
what goes up
is always coming down
around my way.

Z.D.

relative

2006-04-14T15:53:00.000-07:00

time stands still
watching us pass by
and moments –
like fading fireflies
they die, slowly
imagining
that life resides
inside
their light.

Z.D.

'buela

2006-04-13T02:54:00.000-07:00

On her death day
she spat apple seeds
coughed up the past in her palms
and handed it to me
to plant within the walls
of our living room
so that I may one day
shake this house.

Z.D.

éxodo

2006-04-13T01:34:00.000-07:00

caminamos, buscando
tesoros de miel
nuestra piel sudando
dolores de profetas
fallados
en sueños pasados
preguntas encarcelado
sin respuestas
ni sentido
pero seguimos
caminando…

Z.D.

Allegiance

2006-04-07T01:59:00.000-07:00

Cloaked in spangled banner
stripes wrap enough to crush
my bones in binding sheath
beneath stars prickle skin

Left with the faintness
of Oh Say…
repetitive lullaby
lulling me to sleep

sleep.

Being rocked at a dizzying speed
still believing
perilous fights
are what cause the gleaming

I am caught
taught/between/extremes
waiting for a single beat
in this rhythmless scene
itching for a beat

beat.

Z.D.

Where Dandelions Grow

2006-04-06T02:05:00.000-07:00

below, in my alley garden
of soiled diapers and flies
empty bottles of rum
and Spanish news, months old

broken clothes pins and records
of homeland boleros
pigeons dance to the drum
of rice and hard bread falling
from weathered hands, stories high

plastic prayer beads tossed
in lost faith
nestled under coins
meant for bodies of water
under palms far away
and unsent love letters
quartered by forgetting hands

and southern winds part
stem from seeds
that skim bits of history
and carry them off into pages
unwritten and wary of
a setting sun.

Z.D.

The Five Points (a love letter to nyc)

2006-04-05T05:14:00.000-07:00

I – The Landfill

We all sink between
this convergence
of drunken tenements,
shifting sleepily into half-lives
of arms and legs entangled
in soiled sheets.
Tomorrow they will hang
wrung, surrendering
to an influx of
new hands ready
to wring and harden
from the unconcern of earth
they'll dig to steady
this capsizing ship.

II – The Two-Step

There was never a point
When Father McKay refused
To let the Boy dance
On his church's pinewood floor
They reminded him
Of his parent's jig
And underneath his robe
His legs jerked slightly
The way the Boy's legs jerked slightly
a month from that day
As he danced in flames
From the maple in the square
A serendipitous casualty
of war.

III – The Heavens

Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech Haolam
The rest escaped her small lips in whispers
As the past was passed
Fingers pressed
on chipped porcelain ridge
of suffering and sacrifice
redemption and release
she pinched and swallowed
this bitter herb
Eyes straining to contain yesterday
When pebbles flew
at her quickening feet
Those schoolboys laughed
And she might as well
Keep wearing
Yellow stars

IV – The Leavening

Knuckles raw
Registering the knead and roll
Into cuts and crevices on his hands
His mother read his palm
When he was young
Said he would have a beautiful wife
Good luck and a long life.
The lines worn like sidewalks
Bulldozed into salted dreams
Memories of a past unfulfilled
And an unsettled future.
There is still time.
Keep kneading. Keep kneading.

V – The Cadence

After seventeen years
On this damp afternoon
Junior sank in
The rumble of bass, the thud
Which led him
Past Baxter, Mulberry, and Mott
Past the maple with his name
And the closed store-fronts
Into the rhythm
of his grandmother's Caribbean tongue.
He whistled and crossed --
head, heart, shoulder, shoulder, mouth
Whistled and wrung the towel in his hands
swung it cool
then hung it on his head.

Z.D.