Writing
pen and paper
A handful of my written works: poetry, essays, and articles. Duality is the law of graspable realities, and words are the path to it.
Gallery
Yo soy como la fruta del pechiche,
oscuro y amargo, temporal y profundo. Pechiche,
que de mis brazos fuertes salen cinco dedos,
que tiene raíces profundas,
que soporte la sequía y la lluvia,
que pierde su piel de vez en cuando,
que busca la luz del sol,
y el azul del cielo,
que absorbe cada gota que le cae encima,
que se mueve muy despacio en el corazón,
que tiene un corazón,
talable y desiderable,
amable pero desagradable,
una parte de un bosque inmenso,
una casa para los pájaros,
dependiente en los hongos y las archeas,
oscuro y amargo,
temporal y profundo,
el pechiche en febrero,
lo que soy y deseo. poem Yo Soy El Pechiche 2026 
essay The Ephemeral Meaning of Wilderness 2023 a hand,
commanding,
the great power of.
ten thousand million cells and spikes,
of clamps and pulleys and tiny cords,
a formidable machine of flesh and fresh bone,
a child of trials of gene wars long gone.
they say the eyes are the window to the soul,
but the soul sees through the fingers of hands. poem Hands 2026 La fe en la vida
va... y viene.
Como la candela de la vela,
con el viento se sostiene,
la mano invisible,
de los tentaculos del destino,
el último, fatal, peligro,
enciende y apaga,
decide y derrite.
Trotando, traigo viento,
pero mi cuerpo no es mío. poem La Candela y El Viento 2026 TLALOC Y HUITZILOCHTLI,
SABOR DE TUS ANCESTROS,
HUITZILITZLI EN EL SOL,
Y PLUMAS DE QUETZALES
EN TOCADOS DIVINOS, ANTES
DE LA CRUZ Y EL PECADO,
ANTES DEL MATRIMONIO DE
ESTA TIERRA CON UN HOMBRE
CELOSO E INGRATO, NUESTRO
“PADRE”, LA TIERRA Y SUS
CRIATURAS ESTABAN CASADO
CON EL SOL Y LA LUNA, EL
MASCULINO Y EL FEMININO,
PUMA Y AGUILA, AGUA Y
FUEGO AL MISMO PRESENTE.
UN COMPROMISO HONESTO,
SUFRIMIENTO Y AMOR. poem Tenochtitlan Antiguo 2026 When angels landed on earth,
and roamed the deserts and hills,
no one saw them for they wore cloaks
made of the dusty wastes of star factories.
When angels landed on earth,
they drank wine of mortal blood
to quench their wrath of virtue
and bring balance to the great inner battle.
When angels landed on earth,
without laws or words or lines on maps
yet they knew things, true things,
of change and reciprocity and love.
When angels landed on earth,
the waves rose and volcanoes spewed,
and trees dropped all their seeds.
When angels landed on earth,
good men played poker with the devil
and bad men gave food to the poor. poem When Angels Landed On Earth 2026 The ground trembled beneath your feet;
From your conception was conceived a storm.
Words flow from the rivers of your sorrows,
but love prevails at the feet of its source.
At our first meeting, a great rift was unearthed;
a clearing of air into our churning souls,
in a world unfair and covered in a sea of holes.
Though your heart may quiver,
present to such sweeping dark winds,
your spirit has not shrieked or shied.
Hence you must rest and breathe for a while,
given such a long and treacherous trial.
But do not let yourself be idle,
keep making words your idols.
Let the ink of your pen lead you,
to the restitution of your destitution.
To DBP, from
Matteo Schaffner
07.26.2024 poem Restitution for Destitution 2024 
article Jacqueline Siapno: From conflicts to classrooms 2023 Chocolate, dark, it’s a wonderful thing.
Fools bark, bark, bark... never listen to the wind.
As I sit here now, I contemplate self.
Can it really be true that it’s not known who?
or what, or when, or how, or if, or why, or then?
for why am I on a dot in the sky?
the weight of the world is like the touch of a girl,
and with a whisper of sin, it’s gone in a whirl.
But what I really wanna know,
and on a serious note, why does anything grow?
why, why, why, bro...
is equality so damn fuckin’ slow.
It’s about damn time,
that someone write up a rhyme,
to talk about that feral crime
that’s invading both of our minds.
Let’s take a moment, and be with our earth...
She gave us birth,
and we don’t appreciate her worth.
It’s a shame you know,
that only those who know, know. NO, NO, NO, NO!
We must reject the blind,
and the confines of our time.
It’s up to you and me
to deal with the knowledge tree. poem The Confines Of Our Time 2023 On blades of grass I lay.
I can see them and they can see me,
but they are mirrors.
each blade recieves, but does not keep;
it accepts all which it is offered,
but does not know of its own.
I am the reflection.
As hard as I may try to give,
I will only be capable of keeping.
So long as I cannot give, I cannot recieve.
So long as I see myself, I cannot recieve.
So long as having is possible, I am empty.
So long as I am empty, I cannot give.
I am merely a spectator,
for I am the reflection.
Even if I become green, thin, and small;
if my reflection even looks like grass,
I will still not reflect.
Only if I am no longer something to be
reflected, and grass not something to be seen,
will I then escape the cycle of myself. poem Blades of Grass 2022 mondo c’è; mondo va.
Siamo sempre; siamo mai.
Senza bellezza; senza bruttezza.
in questa magnifica esistenza sono io.
sei pure tu, e tutto quello intorno a noi.
Siamo soli e sparsi con distanze infinite in mezzo.
ma sempre existiamo junti nello spazio el tempo.
Viviamo in un momento que non è mai cominciato e
non finira mai; comunque, l’imaginazione
apre la porta fra ora a passato; ora a futuro.
Una conezione simile a quella che existe fra me
e te. quella stessa conezione che separa ogni
atomo dall’altro.
come l’illusione di colore negli nostri occhi,
e come quella di emozione negli nostri cuori,
existe quella di diferenza tra ogni cosa e ogni momento.
Siamo tutti conessi e tutti seperati.
existe tutto e existe niente; ma solo existe.
è questo il nostro mondo; benvenuti e benpassati. poem Mondo C'e, Mondo Va 2022 Hello there old friend;
I see you and you see me,
You are the still and I the movement;
You watch me in the early hour when my feet move.
Patiently, you wait for my breath to ruffle your leaves.
Those leaves that come and go like thoughts.
In your yesterday which was for me so long ago,
when your branches were bare and your flowers red,
my solitude was but a slow drip into a still pond.
And yet, you were there; your eyes so large yet so still.
With stillness, you watch a dense forest grow.
And without a flinch, you blow a breeze of joy into my heart.
I can watch you and lay on you; you heal me.
I can feel a fusion from deep in the earth flow;
through your roots and branches into leaves and flowers,
thoughts and feelings. Your empathy cries with a
slow drip of sap. You whisper in my ear with the
change of a season. I hear you and you hear me,
In ways that no other soul could be, yours is beautiful.
And just like your leaves, you will pass and too will I.
But you know that, and are
okay with it. You live now.
Your universe is our universe.
You great arbitor of
peace, thank you. poem The Tree Across The Way 2022
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