lost in space

This is so much more important
than another writing that’s going nowhere;
that set me adrift or lost in space without
knowing which direction to go.

I always try to do my writings
when a July afternoon feels like it should happen all year round,
when a flow of fresh air tides touches the soul and even
a simple poem can be a challenge to deal with.​

This is not a poem, tough,
that’s what my poetic heart had told me anyway,
but I can’t deny that, secretly, your name is tattooed
in every word you see.​

I’ve decided to write through
a faded idea of you and play the rest by ear,
It has been a long hot day without a cold one
and I can’t think of a better way to rest my brain tonight
than to spend it sipping into this beer with a joy of a calmed tiger.​

Fidel Guerra, Oregon, July, 26, 220
​