En la Selva

In Those Last Days

In those last days
before the last kingdom
became a mine of souls and silver, a plumed prophet
sat upon his golden throne
and dreamed his dream of Kulkulkan.

Can we conjure up a time
when forests held us tight
and our dreams were quetzal green

and the nights were jaguar dark,
when time was not an arrow
but a round

and stars held the promise
of eternity?

TwitterizationNation, August, 2017



La Encantadora de Serpientes

Una mujer misteriosa
desnuda y negra,
ojos blancas como perlas
de la luna,
pasa por la selva oscura.
Bajo el ojo hipnotico
de la luna
llama con su flauta
de los arboles
y las hierbas
los serpientes ondulantes.

A woman wanders
in a night mesmerized
by the moon, plays a reed
among tropical trees
and, like a Cretan goddess,
summons serpents from the
selva and spiky grasses.

They cannot resist
the tune, raise their heads above
the tall grasses, glide from branches
and leaves of trees,
ignore the ibis by the lake,
hypnotized like the night
is charmed by the moon.

Esta Eva encanta
a las serpientes
como estaba una vez

Sin Fronteras Journal, 2018



If I Fell in the Jungle

The sun streams in my
south-facing sunroom.
It’s winter out there,
but in here
plants from the tropics
ignore the fact–
spider plant, snake plant,
rubber plant.
Bougainvilleas bloom
purple, orange,
magenta and white,
relying on me
for food and water
like animals in cages.
If I fell in the jungle
they would feed on me:
my bones their stems,
my sinews their fibers,
my skin their leaves.
I’m safe enough
in my sunroom,
plants caged in
terracotta and talavera
like midnight cats.


Kinich Ahau

Kinich Ahau, the sun,
roars over the Mayan hills
like a jaguar in full charge,
blazing fury,
burning crisp the maize fields,
driving into hiding
all the creatures of the night.

TwitterizationNation, August, 2017



Maya Moon

Ix Chel, the moon,
prepares to sleep,
draws a veil across her face,
her reign complete
above the plazas,
temples, huts and fields,
hills and woods
of ceiba trees
where jaguars prowl
and soft-winged owls
spread silent menace
beneath her light.

TwitterizationNation, August, 2017


In winter I grow thin and wan,
desiccated and withdrawn,
conserve my strength and feed on little,
meditate and become brittle.

Wait for spring and summer rain,
then I’ll swell up again
put out buds and burst in bloom,
and stock up fat for winter gloom.

In winter i grow thin and wan
dry and brittle and withdrawn
conserve my strength and feed on little
meditate and shiver, shrivel.

Sun and Moon
In The High Desert
Cocina Mexicana
Brother Francis