And in the afterglow of a half-eaten moon,
our static pulses stun the spectators...

"but you, my soiled teenage girlfriend
or are you furrowed like a lioness...

[this is somewhat of a nonsense poem...unless you...
Ruby-red slippers with yellow brick stains...

After going up to the mountains of Granada to see...
Your feet are the pulse of Spain...

Am I the wilting temptress,
dishing out seductive hoodwinks...

"and you won't make a sound or be nervous...
so old that it feels like it is ending...

After the standard mosquito shower, I play
connect-the-dots with my fingernails...

Lantern
With the sultry silhouette of an hourglass...

[This was a writing practice in Lit class where we...
Out of the blue...

[This is an imagist poem: it's supposed to be this...
From the grape-stained belly...

You need no bricks for sandcastles,
They grow with you. Each summer...

And so, once treacherous
waters are an afterthought...