Arrows

Excerpt

“I’ll talk because the time for our farewells is near,” I said, “and I
don’t want us parting like this.”
“Try me.”
He turned to look at the ship. His aftershave aroma of lavender
and storax, mixed with our sweat, filled my nostrils and sharpened
my senses. Watching him reminded me of my own looks, a sort of
discovery. Over the years, although he was four years older,
Bartolomé and I had become more alike, despite the inequality in
weight and his hooked nose. The main difference was the ripple of
his strong muscles visible under his shirt. Sometimes it was like
watching the movements of a powerful horse.
When I had come to board the ship, we were shocked to see each
other again. We always wrote and knew everything about the other,
but six years had passed since our last encounter. He took me by the
shoulders and looked me over from head to toe. Apparently
satisfied with my growing into manhood, he patted me on the
shoulder and grabbed my tonsure, shaking me softly before
squashing me in a bear hug.
Now we would soon be taking our leave of each other, and only
God knew when we would be reunited. I realized I was staring at
him and turned to face the sea.
Illuminated by the rising moon, the ship swayed, two lanterns
glowing on the castle decks. I watched the white spume of the waves
breaking, their hissing claim on the beach. The breeze carried the
voices of the men still sitting around the fire.
“Why the hell did you flog yourself?” Bartolomé asked.
“To purify my heart.”
“Purify your heart? Salvador, you haven’t done a bad thing in
your life!”
I snorted, shaking my head and reaching back to pull at my habit
and detach it from my wounds.
“I beat him,” I said. “I beat Pánfilo. He was having his way with a
girl. She wanted to resist. I don’t know what came over me. I
couldn’t believe my eyes, and before I knew it I was beating him up.
I didn’t mean to.”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073522

Liquid Labyrinth

Circular letter
Körlevél
Don’t answer, – the circular letter is knocking now,
I’ll put empty words to work for a buck

  • the blood plows me through with a hot plow,
    and in bad ears the sound gets stuck.
    My red star face breaks down into a lesson,
  • now the big secret is budding to remain
    my holy message penetrates to the bone heaven,
    and my dead heart will love again.
    I carved the mirage from poems’ dream space,
    you act on the edges of the new laws’ way,
  • gallop after it then practice the race
  • you, too can succeed one day.
    The thought struck me a few times,
  • I put on a deadly mask, how I look,
    like a yellowed vagrant skeleton, it lies,
    it kicked the threshold with half a foot.
    Some lines melt into the minute,
    my pocket is loaded with bold pulse,
  • the title invites you to take a walk in it,
    which I sprinkle with noble gold dust.
    It was a colorful drama that kept me in good condition,
    pagan December brings a mission,
    the voice squealed in my waistline,
    and my circular also reached the finish line for the seventh time.

Marginal

Catherine
Unforgiving invincible sparkle
dances inside your rose with
its heavy, sinful petals
and a loathing desire
still lurks behind
the undulating tempest
nothing is left but the husk
of your last wish and
a crying forlornness

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1771715987

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