140orFewer

Hey Tumblr……Wow - a featured poem and a bunch of new followers. I love it.

I was gone this week cuz I went on vacation to Puerto Lopez in Manabí (a coastal province of Ecuador where my grandma is from). So yes - now I have a beautiful tan but I’m upset cuz on the way back my wallet was stolen….don’t really care about the money but my Ecuadorian documents were in there so in the next week I will have to go file a police report and wait the WHOLE fucking day in the Registro Civil……..

Anyway - thanks for all the support. Love all of you. And new followers. I would love a question or comment

P.S. I never got to thank 140orfewer for being my 200th follower!!! Thanks so much - I love your blog. As a thank you I would love to do a spoken word version of any of my poems for you - Let me know.

-K.

P.S.S. Tomorrow I’m going to Mama Negra, the biggest drunk fest in all of Ecuador - So don’t expect poetry…..but do expect some entertaining photos.

Gratitude

I once had riotous flames swirling inside; I’d exhale warm, soft billows of smoke every once in a while.

They’ve spoken and stolen and kissed-

I thought, by now, they’d been extinguished.

But you showed me that there was still an ember or two,

So I suppose that I should thank you.

Great Panic and Voracity

There were not many things about her that I committed to memory: just scraps and shards that I scooped up off the floor by the handfull.  Some were jagged and they dug into my skin, but I hoarded them with great panic and voracity none-the-less.  I savored the sting for a moment, and hoped that they would dig deeper into my skin.  That they would tunnel under my flesh and swim in my veins.  That they would invade me and draw my blood cells to them like a magnet.  That they would attract and captivate my every impulse.  That they would be the center of me.

And others were softer; they ran through my fingers like water: they washed my hands and skin.  They dropped to the floor.  But I never once thought of bending and collecting them; mopping them up with my hands and tongue.  I was preoccupied with the jagged, sharp parts: with the sting and the pain and the wrinkles on your temples and you closed your eyes shut so tight and yelped between short, staccato breaths of air drawn tight like the skin of a drum when struck; when slapped; when beaten.  You vibrated.  Every inch of you, it vibrated.