Dream
My dreams hold power
For when my ancestors speak
They show me the world
~La Culebra
Dream
Soul Lovin’
Soul Lovin’
Eyelash against cheek
Tickles just as much as love
Knocking on your soul
~ La Culebra
Georgie
Georgie
I was
Caribbean, bright banana yellow
bundled puffed out cotton held in by criscrossed beads from knees to neck
He was
Argentinian freckles
blue striped suave with chocolate feathers resting above pudding pool eyes
We traveled school mornings and bodega afternoons together between the years of 8 and the fates of 9
Sleepy eyed Monday greetings and tender hugged Friday goodbyes
ritually strung together by weekdays filled with Shasta, chips, pollo y pegao
Somewhere between giggles and contusions we sparked dizzied bliss on empty lots
We tinkered with radio stations and school projects
Bonded over airwaves and oxygen
Traveled fingertips over chest cavities with invented degrees and imaginary metal
We carried morning memories with our books to class
Both protected by brown paper clutched next to our hearts for safe keeping
But one day destiny carried him South again
To replant him among palm trees and the closest tip America has to island sun
And I then discovered why the willow weeps
on my solitary walks along the streets of New York
~ La Culebra
Back Bone
Back Bone
She carried ineptitudes in slings on her back
Nurtured them like corn-fed babies to bear the stigma of a curve with broken bone
Hung guilt with dirty laundry through sheer interior curtains
waiting for someone’s light to bleach them clean
She removed imprinted kisses from the crook of her knees and blood thirsty vessels upon her neck
whispering
“Out, damn spot out…”
But there is a sea inside brimming with life
Her lips grained like walnut shells told stories on their own
Each line
a memory
Like foreign lips creating grooves in spots once thought to be whole
Digging tunnels for the rivers of liquid goodness
The kind that defies gravity upward from its neck
and the heaviness of something unfinished burrowed into softness created endless lines
Lines upon her broken back
Lines like her lips that told stories
~ La Culebra
Being Lazarus Epidemic
Being Lazarus Epidemic
It swept through like cornsilk on diseased minds
Every few months it happens
Gentle breezes tickle with salted words through glowing boxes
Stirring for injectible triggers to provide an uproar by the displaced
This time it was 17 and dead
Wagging tongues then changed the status to contagion
Because prejudgement can be contagious when you are in the wrong place
You were not the first account of bare arm abuses
Judgements existed for you long before puckered lips sourced sustenance
Mental leprosy causes blackouts in the areas of humanity, love and brotherhood
For your obvious sickness was youth, and a melanin count that was too high
A broken social contract
You must be wickedness in hooded shadows
Attire that can only be a desperate cry for the henchmen of the grim reaper to put you out of your unchartered existence
Return you to a cleansed earth soaked with your life
even when breath has left you
Apparently, Lazarus is thought unfit to decide what is deemed a valued life
~La Culebra
Insomniac’s Dreamcatcher
Insomniac’s Dreamcatcher
Insomniac’s night
is wrapped in layers of sheets
and unfinished things
Til night cars call sleep like tides
and wheels become dreamcatchers
~La Culebra
Artwork- Untitled (Insomnia Painting) by Samantha R. Fein
Gimme That Ole Time Religion
Gimme That Ole Time Religion
Gimme That Ole Time Religion
where the earth shook from bare feet instead of combat boots
where the sky and the body were the temples I worshipped
where I understood the sacrifices we made were to nourish blood, bellies and souls
Gimme That Ole Time Religion
where libations of water flooded the ground instead of distilled spirits
where the scent of sage
copal
frankincense and myrrh filled my home
while a swipe of agua florida crossed the back of my neck
cigar y ron crossed the flesh of lips
and winds rattled bells, feathers and emptied shells
Gimme That Ole Time Religion
where we crushed earth between toes
pounded drums instead of pavements to save a life
where elders held wisdom in each colorless curl and sang names for your name
pressed string on your skin
just above your place of reasoning
Gimme That Ole Time Religion
where we whispered to the four directions the heart of our intentions
filled pipes with dreams and tobacco
limboed to ease the passing of life
and placed rocks upon mounds that were 6ft deep to show even in stillness life was there
Gimme That Ole Time Religion
where a family was bigger than the house you lived in
where hymns could shake rafters with their amazing grace
and the moon,
the sun
and the ocean talked
and we remembered how to listen…..
~ La Culebra
24/30- Muevete
Muevete
Calloused hands massage worn leather
Keeping tempo to ancient footsteps that break the earth
Shoulder shimmies lean before hunched backs
Bones move in color washed cotton skirts
Ven
Ven
Ven
they call
Muevete
like island cats
like tossed laundry
like pulled cuatros
Join fingers
like woven thread
like crashing waves
Cross steps
like flamingo struts
like watching prey
He spins
like a needle on a record
You pull
like gravity is feminine
clave hits like angry steam pipes
and
your feet answers to only one word
One
powerful
word
MUEVETE
~La Culebra
23/30- Instructions to Cry pt.2
Instructions to Cry (pt. 2)
Guzzle laughter beyond lips
Let fingers brush feet and stomach through contained smiles
Kiss the birth of your legacy
Wear the diagnosis of survivor
Share with friends the comedy of errors
Witness the return of the lost
View dreams on-screen until they pinch your belly
Watch your children cross thresholds with documented futures
Chop onions
Grant wishes and realize you are someone’s prayer
These are your instructions to cry
~ La Culebra
22/30- Instructions to Cry pt.1
Instructions to Cry (pt.1)
Rip slowly from the parts that are still tender
Watch air cease from the closest living thing to you
Allow yourself to become battered and blue in places seen and unseen
Wait for those that fill the contents of your heart to arrive late or not at all
Skin knees, chins and feelings raw
Knock on doors that never open until knuckles bleed
Hope for fullness in 12 cycles of barrenness
Have china patterns remain purer than vows
Suffocate in someone else’s freedom
Face false mirrors that render you broken
And last but not least
Outlive love in all forms
These are your instructions to cry
~ La Culebra
Writing Prompt: Instructions to cry
