The Epistles

Dear Father,

Im here.
Im among the smudging palm trees of
my airplane window,
among my translucent reflection.
Im among the people speaking in tongues:
Que bien, que bien.
I walk in tile cracks;
through security and
Bacardi bottles.
I get lost in labyrinthine corridors,
meeting my luggage
at the middle of
baggage claim.

A man offers me a taxi, speaks English.
I smile, say
The sky is cloudless.
Airplanes become mosquitoes,
their engines leaking
I ride the taxi home.
Thirty bucks, with

Cubist house: Our home.
Paint peels in tears,
exposing the bony concrete.
I see the blocks and their arthritic
I see a staircase
guarded by crested anoles.
They attach themselves to the slanted
corners of the
They even sunbathe on the slats
of the jalousies
that leaks me into your empty
I see the ants huddle in the corner.
A mirror reflects
the cinereous web poised
above their heads.

I take to exploring
the cracked panapen
leaking white blood
into the drain
of vertigo road.

I explore with feral dogs,
who claw and chew
at my sides.
We hunt the pieces of past
broken watch gears
guarded by iguanas.

I explore in silence.
I speak my own tongue.
I speak the null.

Tu Hiyo.
13 July

Charlie Guzman is an aspiring poet and founder of Burro Char magazine. His main focus is experimental writing, specifically writing exercises such as the surrealist games and the Oulipo exercises. He has been published in Literary LaGuardia Magazine and Symmetry Pebbles, and soon to be published in First Literary Review and Toe Good Poetry. He hopes to become a full-time poet in a country of economic ruin.

2004-2011 Underground Voices