2 poems

last year when i returned from mexico i began suffering with miserable prostatitis and sought solace reading some poetry and biographies of poets. i was interested in the life and relationship of james merrill and the poems of james shuyler. james shuyler spent the end of his life in chelsea (the hotel chelsea, i think). i worked for 13 years at Fashion Institute of Technology, 27th and 7th. it's just a few blocks from the hotel on 23rd street.

I was inspired to write some poems. here are a couple:

Cristina (Andrew Wyeth Painting)
by Charlos

Mudder, out you borned the Bronx
Toxic putang
Dem ugly weeds cuts you
Dey be mad cuz they aint upstate
On a hill under some
White girl's ass.

The campaign 2004
by Charlos

My friend left me high, in the clouds
Metaphor? no we were peaking
At kilamanjaro's summit
Wathching the candidate for high office
Smile, son at his side
Really? No we were at the convention
And his son was part of his body
Needing to be set free
Like a good joke
In front of thousands of delegates
Collectively crowing like as many birds passing
Closer Abuv abuv abuv
Away away
Testing, tap the mike in the big hall
Sun in the shadow of the candidate
He ought to be a winner, huh, big guy
Brrrrrr cold and dark night sky
With eyes to see it all over your head
Fast grab the penguin feather parkas
And race away on wings of those silly beasts
Away from a system whosun is
Not its center, something greater is
Concentrate and slowly fly away
From the flame like a protestant moth
Saying no to desire
Until you're weightless
in front of a blue moon