November Heart Beats for Lhasa De Sela

I Didn't Call and You Didn't See

Me for a While

by AE Paulino

Lhasa Lhasa O dear,

Dearest Lhasa, from where, where

If not only from the lobby of your heart

Does that voice carry four chambers

On its back and up through the slight

Aperture of throat, does it compress

All that blood into song, into vibrations of air?

Lhasa Lhasa O dear,

Dearest Lhasa, from where there,

If only there does that pain swell and clenched

Like eyes, does a tear damp those fists?

Lhasa, for it is November

Dearly November and your airs make love,

Sheets of fallen temperatures that wrap the streets--

O dear, you make again, the heart with which I move

Its not enough, no longer to know--

Its not honest, no longer never less, to hold most still,

And from a tongue like a stage, truth will act

When the play, O dear, bloats with necessity

Lhasa Lhasa O dear,

Dearly Dearest, when should I,

If ever I should with this There There Heart,

That trickles and drafts, that needs a pin,

A button and perhaps an Icy Late Fall's Palm;

When should I sing from that palm,

The necessity that could make a Lhasa song

out of the absence thereafter?

Because,

Its not enough, no longer to think--

Its misfortune, no longer the more, to press most still,

and from a tongue like a hot tin roof, truth will jump

When the building, story by story, bloats with desperation

Observe

Stranger, When We Meet

by AE Paulino

I rode the train back home

and couldn't keep my eyes off my reflection,

this always happens--

obsessed, I have to know how I look

moment to moment, stop to stop,

the subtle changes in who I am,

glass acrossly framed, tells me

in transparent summary;

There's no time to meet

the attractive eyes of a stranger,

the jealous, the nervous, or the curious--

No, no, there's no room on that glass

where I'm strange enough for me,

jealous enough, nervous, and by every mean--

curious.

I know some can see my amazement,

my fascination, my subject;

I worry they think me two dimensionally vain

but, only for a slight second's fraction--

before I notice how such a thought

shapes my face, gives it character,

establishes a reserved countenance

of satisfied disappointment, paranoid trust,

of discorded agreement with the fellow

in the glass who, for a second's fraction

did not mirror my vision--

and like a director to an unprepared actor,

I function it my privilege

to extract that performance;

for myself and the strangers

Today You Get To Say 'I Told You So'

by A.E. Paulino

I've been in the dead end of cave
caved in, I've been there with nothing of more
than a dull flame, asthmatic light almost out of lung
dullest makes gray separate from black
and to that extends its reach
thinking my gray a brilliant white
because its all available with nothing
of true light to compare against

all at once a scalpel dissects cave walls
and pure sunlight burns eyes to the back
of my dark vibrating mind
I sit and can't find that dull little flame
where has it gone and I remember
how clear it shone out in that absolute of cave

now I walk forward wishing to not squint
through eyelids like a veil over whispered-open eyes
I can't see anything but I know its clear and true
bright warmth on my face
embracing me back into a world
a world long from a detention
where I've been kept and made to miss
all the beams and rays that intensified
in between the days I've been caved
now in extreme fires of sunlight
am I made to adjust.

its also a question.

The Drowning Man

by A.E. Paulino

I heard the last roar of the storm
before an obsidian wave,
streaked by silver reflections of moon,
swallowed me under.
A crash cymbal in reverse
as ocean sucked me down.

Dark sea, the siren's song,
a panic of sudden loneliness
in a cold abysmal, I'm taken.
Life reaches upwards,
struggle drags me fathoms further,
I see nothing.

Still, my breath is held
and water does not fill my lungs

Though I cannot collect a visable assembly,
I know my ship is still in tact.
I must reach her.

On the surface, shoved every which way
by dark waves and pounding winds;
she won't break, certainty of such
becomes air for me.
Above she holds together by all
that gathered the strength of her framework.
Under, I push and pull
as harrowing tempests of desperation grip me.

To control less, to let go and abandon,
this lifts the body back to her;
yet, death consults without logic
inspires anxiety and weight as I sink.

Unless I float I'm not worth
a return to shore with her.

The Diary of Iris-Aurelie: 1

twelve days left.
she has been captured. throughout the palace halls, the daily shuffle of voices and commands haunt the silence that replaces them at hours of deep night. after dinner the air stood quite still. they announce the trial was to be held twelve days from now. so i began this log. a pain has begun to sting my stomach, must've been something I ate.

Happy Belated Valentines Day

Stupid Kiss
by A.E. Paulino


I texted her.
a n g r i l y.
i wanted to
see her/
its been long
since last
we've done
any seeing of
one another.
t h u r s d a y,
she wrote.
excited i wait/
and she doesn't
show at all,
t h u r s d a y.
friday, she's gone
no reply no text.
i thought she died.
she has lung
p r o b l e m s,
she could die.
I wouldn't know.
s a t u r d a y
she texts,
i'm not dead,
but she is.
she is and
she can't
c o n v i n c e
me other,
to that wise...