becoming comfortable. seeing sad faces made long by hard times. sometimes people encrouch upon private spaces.

that is all there is.

revolutionary

he moves within me silently,
penetrating the places the others couldn't
with promises and caresses,

i can't write about him without writing
revolutionary.
he makes my stomach ache,
the seeds of discontent grow and blossom into
more waiting, so many unspoken words.

viva siempre, y libre mi corazon.

the man named chester

sucking in my daily coffee fix, my new friend chester sitting nest to me telling me all about life,
a jazz and history photographer, someone who matters.
what am i doing with my life?
(working in a bakery, writing poetry, trying to marry and become a revolutionary)

where are all my people?
(viva la revolution)