earthly voyages

September, 2025

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To Diego with Love – Frida Kalko

I’m not asking you to give me a kiss,
not to apologize to me when I think you’ve made a mistake,
I won’t even ask you to hug me when I need it most,
I’m not asking you to tell me how beautiful I am even if it’s a lie,
or to write me anything nice.
I’m not even going to ask you to call me
to tell me how your day was,
or to tell me you miss me.
I’m not going to ask you to thank me for everything I do for you,
or to worry about me when I’m down,
and of course, I’m not going to ask you to support me in my decisions,
or even to listen when I have a thousand stories to tell you.
I’m not going to ask you to do anything, not even to be by my side forever.
Because if I have to ask you, then I don’t want it anymore.

Flautist – inspired by George and Ira Gerswin

I say flautist
And she says flutist
She says well dressed
And I say nudist
Flautist
Or flutist
Well dressed
Or nudist
She’ll take her clothes off you’ll see


She likes the high notes
And I say play low
She wants more rhythm
And I want more show
High notes
Or low notes
Rhythmic
Or slow
She’ll take her clothes I know


She likes being well draped
And I like her bare
She is socially nervous
And I couldn’t care
Well draped
Or bare skinned
Socially nervous
Or free
She’ll take her clothes off you’ll see


She lives in a small town
Her needs are quite few

She was perfectly happy
Until she met you
Small town
Or needy
Self conscious
Or free
She’ll take her clothes off you’ll see

I say it’s Paris
And she says Pari
She says, it’s no go
And I say we’ll see
Paris or Pari
Le no go
Or oui
She’ll take her clothes off for me


She plays the classics
And then plays the blues
She is red headed
And there go her shoes
Classics
Or blue notes
Red headed
Or gray
She takes her clothes off … hooray.

How to Slay a Dragon – Rebecca Dupas

Two-bloods – Rolando Kattan

I am a descendent of stillness 
and sailors still in motion, 
a brew of saltpeter and blackbird song. 
In just one bloody wound collide 
impatience and calm. 
If I fall silent and words ripen 
it’s the voice of an olive tree in its quiet seed. 
I am the hesitation between hideout and sword, 
the yellow in all the world’s traffic lights. 
In the future I’ll serve you coffee and worship  
you—like an icon—in a picture frame.   

A dos sangres 
Vengo de una ascendencia de quietud 
y marineros todavía en movimiento; 
mezclo el salitre del mar con el canto de un mirlo. 
En una sola herida de sangre colisiona 
la serenidad y el desasosiego. 
Si enmudezco y maduran las palabras 
es la voz de un olivo en su callada semilla. 
Soy la incertidumbre entre el escondite o la espada, 
luz amarillenta en los semáforos del mundo, 
quiero servir tu café en el futuro o adorarte 
—como a un icono—en un portarretrato.

Rolando Kattan

blood


blood, blood, irrational blood flowing through my gates
down my thighs useless and hysterical.

what shall we do with this blood

are we in control or are the fates?
here, i shall paint your face with my blood,
draw blessed archaic symbols
on the walls of your arms and legs
remind us of the hunt, the sustenance we need.

i call upon you to taste me
as we smooth the way
for your
dna  

to come inside me
when the blood is flowing

and it is safe to welcome these eager explorers,
this advance party of terrestrial observers
who shall all die in their service to the queen.  


yes, i shall conspire with you
to send forth another party of your henchmen

your visionaries
inside the road to the sacred city
I shall welcome them passed these holy gates
to meet my ancestors and my future 

to become the entire history of our species
to merge, to reemerge
potential bearing potential being potential
and for some while,

for the first time in a quarter of a century,

all this blood shall cease.