The Arrest

Parked outside the cottage
was a car painted like piano keys.
Men stepped down - whose faces
spelled justice for the rich
and hands that exacted punishment
for the poor.

As one of the men toyed
with rusty cuffs -
those dreaded tools that
even a god has been held
captive; unconscious
while staring at the sky.

And the gavel remains
but claims not to be
the most innocent slayer
that hires silence
to cease tons of men -
even some of the gods.

If the walls have ears,
they should know how
at night, the men would
write their letters in tears.

And if the bars have mouths,
how many times they would say:
"I'd miss those hands of yours
that once held me."

Ballad of the Moon (Romance del Luna)

The moon in full mast,
would glide over hills
and mountains, over treetops;
the wind snored to its content.

It reached Paris
and sighed as it envied
the lovers' eyes
that each woud rather stare at.

It soared high above,
over paved needles that persisted
to wound the sky
but always failed.

Its silvery eyes peered through
the paved needles -
rain fell down on the streets;
an old man slept on the sidewalks.

The moon in full mast,
perched over treetops
and joined me by the river
to sip a little drink.

-dyankayben-

From Under Your Shade

It is here, from under your shade that I choose to dwell. I can hear the feeble trill of the birds nestling within your arms.
What I love most is the silence you bring. Under your shade, I can spend all day long, sitting – and you never scared me away.
To the people who pass by us, what they’ll never understand is how my heart lies within your trunk. In you, I have found not a tree but a home.
And you may ask me why? With all confidence, I’ll stand up and tell you:
“Yesterday, a lady sat down here with me. She would be my bride. An axe in my hand, and a few swings of my arms, you will fall down, and I’ll build a house out of you.”
And, oh, before I forget. Thank you, because you never complained.

It Is Your Clear Eye (Et Es Su Claros Ojos)

Red flower,
it is your clear eye
that greets the phantom
hiding among the thorns and bushes.

Fair passion,
it is your clear eye
that sees in the dark –
a beam of light radiates from your pearls.

Mystery,
it is your clear eye
I choose to stare at.

Red flower,
it is your clear eye
Death chooses to close.

The Gentle Wind Takes away Silence

Into an open door,
invisible horses flushed about
uplifting the sleeping boy –
inviting him to play.

The gentle wind is not noise,
but it takes away the silence.
The boy has chosen the place
where the wind dare not go.

The gentle wind takes away silence –
later at night, when lovers return,
the boy had gone with the horses;

to the place where the wind doesn’t go.
The gentle wind is not noise,
but it takes away the silence

The Guitar (La Guitarra)

As I pluck my six-stringed heart,
the notes are hooks
that cling to the train
of the wind’s gown.

And the rains
let their tears fall
upon the hooks –
rust crumbles them.

Can you not hear
the hooks falling toward your ears?
Can you not hear
the weep of my six-stringed heart?