To write about a passing flower,

white petals swaying in the wind,

yellow core a bed for a bee

A birds nest waiting on an empty tree

It never seems complete

A crisp autumn wind stings the cheeks

Into a forest so deep to hide, retreat

As the fist clenches over the heart

A knot in the throat threatens to explode

Walls of paper falter with no fault

Still I do

I think of you.

-A.Garcia

Alive

There is magic in being alive

Smooth how the snow falls

Warm how the sun feels

Blessed be your cheeks, for they have felt the stinging cold

Blessed be your eyes, for they see the moon shine

That is it, what more can be said

The heart pounds against your ribs

You give what you can spare

Even if it’s just breath escaping into air.

-A.Garcia

It’s a tender sort of pain, a quiet ache that engulfs the heart

A longing with nowhere to go, a cup full of water that overflows

Dead-end streets and cobblestones lead straight to a locked door

Stand under the weeping rain, the entrance has no key, no answer, no fix for your broken part.

-A.Garcia

Forever

How do you hold on to forever?

Your head, how it fits perfectly in the cup of my hand, perfectly framed and rested. To feel your warmth, your wet, cold nose searching for comfort. Your body curled up between my legs, burrowed as you should be. You had a rough few first months of life and it showed the moment you turned up at our door. Your grittiness and survival instinct alert to dangers that were not there anymore. That's okay, I'm the same way. Perhaps we are kindred souls. Constant vigilance because life was not fair at one point.

The insistent desire to indulge in fine food, cold or warm, found on the street or in the space inside your bowl. Long walks and sun bathing in the park, doesn't it feel so nice? I know you love it. Green eyes or something, they always seem to change. I could never stand when sadness seemed to glisten from them, two eyeballs held in a glaze. Your paws tip-tapping around, such a sweet sound. Can you please give me one last gaze.

How do you hold on to forever?

-A.Garcia

Gnossienne

They feel so silly, all these words. Otherworldly. How they are typed out so nice and sweet, perfectly arranged, a cadence following a piano in my head. The soul’s Gnossienne. A reflection of an imaginary world, a refuge for when reality hits like an approaching brick wall. Solid and cold. So I scoff. Brick walls fall too, and then?

It was said at one point, no whimsy here on this planet, no spot for rhythm or blues, give your inner desires to production, straight lines doing what you are told, “don’t you see that it leads to heaven?” I could laugh at the absurdity. What of the quiet sigh at the end of the night that betrays a yearning for something more? What if heaven was skin against skin not above but here on earth. Think, all you ever held was nothing in every sense of the word, even the breath you hold.

All along the tempo of the heart was not meant to be found but composed. Here I leave contentment in notes, a symphony of unrelated tunes placed down in written form. Because if not now, when?

-A.Garcia

I want to love you

in a gentle, mundane kind of way

When light dances in the swells of your hair, watch it sway

Terrestrially, feet grounded on this Earth

Frills and excitement, drift away,

but not the twist, the dimple in your gentle smile, the glint in the eye when I say, my dream became true, when I saw you.

-A.Garcia

My Muse

Ohh, Saudade!

How you haunt my dreams and disintegrate my soul. You build me up and lead me on, such high from happiness, such crumbling lows. Every corner I turn, you stand before me and undress me whole. Saudade, my muse, my heart, is this all? Towering heights my vision holds, just for you to leave crumbs on the floor.

- A.Garcia

How Else

Hello, you,

I am writing this letter today, in the same manner I’ve written countless others before. Same rhythm and tune, like composing a song.

It will float in the ether, waiting for a fire to start, dust particles lit aflame from friction, burning words because they never belonged.

That’s how it feels, when words escape a weary soul, a bow and arrow in the hands of someone who doesn’t know what he holds. I shoot the arrow until my arms go numb, sorry if it lands near your heart, while you were dreaming of a beyond. How else could I describe the affliction one suffers when words fire your soul, a fever with no threshold, burning for far too long.

I have crafted a world like none before, all in my head with these fingers and hands full of holes. As much as I try to grasp, it slips through like liquid gold.

So I cut it short once again. Another one in the books, another one with no end, just a sudden stop, never making it past the last bend. Perhaps I am wrong, blinded by foolish make believes, same rhythm and tune, I compose the same damn song.

-A.Garcia

Wish I could write all the better words

perfectly stacked and arranged

trail of papers tipped over

discarded and burned

or feathers crimson red from blazing birds

Some of them meant something

A towering fall, even the gods looked

A giant pillow, my face headed towards

-A.Garcia

Untitled (not found)

A subtle whisper, it titters at the edge of sound, its there

Barely, minuscule in its presence

Ever-present, like air

A touch, so fleeting, never enough

A question, should I dare?

Lay it out, if you must

That the soul conspired a rampant affair

I said with an earnest nod

With a flame so bright it burnt my heart.

-A.Garcia

Flowers sprung in the month of May

Winter frost evaporating away

What is meant to stay?

Can I peek at what you view?

Can I listen to your hearts tune?

Can I marvel at what is meant to be true?

I know, its desire cutting through

I set free the stone in my shoe

I set free my love for you.

-A.Garcia

Color

What is it they say? “What you seek is seeking you.”?

And what if everywhere you look, it’s all the same color, the color blue?

As far as the horizon, once painted red, orange, many different hues.

And, look at your hands, same as the horizon, even the bird that past your eyes just flew.

How to differentiate, what is meant to be true?

If what you seek is stuck in a limbo of color, where confusion reigns, results the same across an eternal view.

-A.Garcia

Perfect Heart-Shape

Why the tears?

Why the weary look?

The heart, heavy as a block of cement

Why the fear?

Why the page from a dreary book?

It’s the soul, leaded with lament.

Do not bite the perfect heart-shaped pear

Do not silence words with despair

Do not sit and wait

Release your shoulders from the weight

If it’s a heart you are meant to sway

Pray to heaven nature finds a way

-A.Garcia

Walls

We build walls to safeguard our hearts, building high, no remorse for the future, heartache crumples your soul into parts .

Slowly, the rays of the sun give up, not daring to sneak through the cracks. Grassy roads around the wall disappear, not a friendly step will dare to trample, a fortress now beckons your heart to stone,

you succumbed to fear.

Pain is no more.

The face of what you were is torn.

You are safe, oh so safe…and alone.

-A.Garcia

In a darkened, lonely room, your mind or within concrete walls…

You think the sun belongs to you

Perhaps the fear you outgrew

Thought you hid the answer someone wanted to hear

The sun warms this way the same, dear.

You think the moon illuminates your path

The road ready for your steps to dash

The earth spins for us all, dead or alive

Certain things are not worth the cry.

-A.Garcia