Counter Stats
accomodation gold coast
accomodation gold coast Counter

 

December 1st

I hang paper trees on dead branches.
Inkblots look like living
things: faces, webs, haikus.
How do we turn ourselves back into half
a thing, once the ink's bled through?
Won't listen to empty wine bottles
garbage can music tonight
want to hear soft words above my head
muffled beating in your sweater.


Malecón

I picked up the plastic piece of straw
after a cocaína line I never took
tore my shirt into a hundred pieces
wanting to bury my head in it
like I saw an ostrich do on TV once
waved my arms up behind me
hoping you would pull me up
out of my shirt pieces
it was just a beater anyway.
I cried lemon teardrops
as you ate ceviche
asked for more ají
you spooned hot pepper pieces onto raw fish
never realizing this place is a skate park after dark.


Sunday Bells

wake the
men make rows
standing on their knees
exposed skin, the woman's low
back before them

No nos dejes caer en tentación
y líbranos del mal.

her underwear is devil
red and dimples above
them holy perfection

a peace is offered,
Que dios le bendiga ud.
strangers kiss
an intercambio de toques

she turns back to face the
lord have mercy
que cola sagrada

Take this all of you and eat of it:
se come el cuerpo
but leaves the men hungry
and restless this
día de descanso.

100 tiles

on the floor square
room on Piedmont Ave.

lady on the cot
talks about symmetry
offers me an acorn

In a three-player game of Scrabble
everyone finds GOD
, she says,

Or symmetry, I reply; it all
started with ACORN,
from the center, radial
14 points, double word score.

We are not OF this place, 2 points
Just using up my letters
she SAYS

Just trying to make words out of nothing,
I SAY, add it to the last S for
4 points, a square, an acorn

I'm winning.

Learning to Count

I remember when my sister snuck into my bed and asked if I knew what fingering was.
I said it was numbers you mark on music to show which piano keys you hit. Sort of, she said; it was summer.

Page 30

in my fraying passport
stamped cities and customs
checks I'll be here until
July 18th
, it says.

a 12-hour day march
through the Andes,
like the after-dinner mints

24 vultures make circles
above the Escuela Militar
barbed wire fence and green
jacket boys

smog is a lightshow
in the Parque de los Novios
the Transmilenio a señora's
bosom soft on my back

la Séptima a chainmail of students
with drums, whistles, fists
and weapon tongues:
!Bajo Yanquis! !Bajo TLC!

the police, the protestors
the potato bombs
are a novice salsa

but the price of tomatoes rises
while campesinos of Boyacá are counting seeds
and going nowhere

the idea is to go nowhere,
says the Dept. of State.

you can stuff corn cakes a su gusto
but, like it or not,
the sun always sets here at 6.

Amy Richards
Nueva York
1988

Amy

Amy se cría en Nueva York. Cursó estudios en Paz y Justicia Social en la Universidad de Villanova. Lleva 7 años viajando por Latino América desarrollando varios proyectos sociales. Antes de vivir en Colombia, trabajó en Nueva York como organizadora comunitaria con Se Hace Camino NY, que lucha por los derechos de los inmigrantes Latinos. Por estos días se encuentra en Bogotá, enseñando inglés en la Universidad Minuto de Dios.

Escribe su poesía en inglés, español y maqueteo en Espanglish.