InvasiveThoughts.com

January 2008

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AMAZE

1930s Poems by Shirley

Subjective

from Trey Garcia

from Coda Plain

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from Jackie De Hon

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Poetry and Art Corner

Art by Laura Lopez

Fernando E. Flores

Lawrence Trujillo

John Moore

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Trey Garcia

photo by Rob Hunter

A.E. Garza, R.I. Magana

Dario R. Beniquez

John Collard

Anonymous

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ArchiveTable of Contents

1 Premier Issue

2 Travel

3 Erotica

4 Death

5 Music

6 Looking Back, Ahead

7 Love & Black History

8 Women's Hist & Stories

9 Art of Expression

10 Neither Here Nor There

11 Social Injustice

12 Social Injustice II

13 Anniversary Issue

14 Green Winter

15 Elections Perspectives

16 Books

17 From the Streets

18 Abuse

19 Abuse Part II

20 Audiophile

21 Heart

22 From the Past

23 Community


Love

 

Red is Marlowe’s rose dead

Or was it burns who said?

It matters not there’s nothing left

So poets stage their countless schemes

Across the centuries’ blank screens

Of insipid Inspiration

Looking for that one lucky gram to score

We prick the thorn to bleed a little loss

And less than lovely’s long

To you— Bald faced Furies

The Magnus opus opus dei

Staring down oblivion’s grim glock

 

I clip this rose and break the stem

The poet ends his fortunes in a song

 

 

 

Fernando Esteban Flores

e-mail:  fflores@southsanisd.net


 

 

 

XLV

(Sonnet to the Moon/Soneto a la Luna)

 

 

Her body is my guitar’s liquid dream

Su cuerpo es el sueño líquido de mi guitarra

 

& from her mouth blood blooms lush blue drops.

Y de su boca florece sangre lujosa, gotas azules.

 

A flower brought to be in its full time

Una flor nacida a tiempo pleno

 

Whose roots cover a vast dark space between us.

Cuales raices cubren un espacio largo, oscuro entre nosotros.

 

A song longing to pour out its sweet breath

Una canción deseando derramar su dulce aliento

 

On strings of beams light as the hands of wind,

En cuerdas rayadas lijeras como las manos del viento,

 

But only silence is her single song.

            Pero sólo el silencio es su canto singular.           

 

I strain to hear the voice behind the rain.

Me esfuerzo a escuchar la voz detrás de la lluvia.

 

Silver plated tears stream through these black pages

 Lágrimas plateadas corren por éstas negras páginas

Burnt into these words like fingers into wood

Quemadas entre éstas palabras como dedos en madera

 

Note by note, groove by groove, grain by grain

Nota por nota, estría por estría, grano por grano

 

Until it strikes the wound & softens the pain.

Hasta que golpea la herida y alisa el dolor.

 

She moves to me the madness of my Muse,

Se mueve hacia mí la locura de mi Musa,

 

Siren of a sad & melancholic song.

Sirena de un canto triste y melancólico.

 

 


Fernando Esteban Flores

e-mail:  fflores@southsanisd.net


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