This flashed upon my dream:
A chair carved with leaves and flowers,
Shellacked and deserted in a grassy field
Is rained and rotting:
Who is the sculptor?
In the middle of the night
Death as though a seed was flown by the wind
To my heart and clogged my vein.
I woke up instinctively and thumped my chest:
Death sprouted faith:
I returned to sleep
With the Sculptor by me.
To You Who Smile So Well
I see you.
With half any eye:
My heart of Cupid
Kept in mothballs
Springs a leak
Of another spell.
I lie in my teeth
Though in my somnambulism
Love wells up
In my mouth.
I have a skin
Like a rhinoceros
But only in this verse.
Roger B. Rueda
When you left
(for Rio Q. Losaria)
Then I sat on the rock and
Splashed riverwater on my feet.
You sang me farewell
Like the riverwater that sings
While it runs away to the sea.
I don't visit the river anymore.
It reminds me of you
Angels In The Street
abandoned by their gods
these little angels
walk and beg
their wings are gone
their clothes so white
have turned black
they will grow up
into demons
-Roger B Rueda
