Pablo Flores – Three Poems


This closet is full of pages
and each page tells of you
in solid print upon the white
I see your face in pronoun
these gospels ringing out
muffled between walls
taking steps out by the halls
they look for cracks in plaster

ticks and whistles driven out
calling up like auctioneers
scratch the glass in silence
and tense these timber limbs
copper springs wound up real good
sound looking for my ears
turn them into plates of tin
another hour without you

beware this door with many keys
be what you appear to be

these pages swamp the floors
they reach up for the lamps
wrap me up to bring me down
the nouns look for a spot
waves of white engulf my head
they will not let me sleep
another point, another phrase
brings me here to you


The Walks

These days take their toll on me
as I lose myself beneath the trees
and all I ask for is the chance to see you
down that icy country back road
where houses lie perfectly still
and even as darkness descends,
the windows don’t shed their light

Well we both know what comes next,
nervous smiles and petty small talk
we see them breaking bread in amber yards
we hear them chanting little songs
lets take our way down beaten paths
you can freeze me with a smile
I can stay to greet the stars

Dreaming on, Dreaming out
I get lost in amber gains

Can you stay for all these days,
or should I take my trips alone?
singing bells will comfort me
if you decide to stay away
the leaves will die but comeback
and I hope you’ll do the same
because walks are all we can share


October Trees

Did it really take so much time
to have you enwreathed in my arms?
in this bright island of orange light
surrounded by autumn trees
a kiss for lovely bleaching bones
as the heavens look upon tonight
my twisting thorns hold you still

and the hours hold no meaning now
all I see are kindred burning eyes
the wind doesn’t blow on our hill
the world has stopped here tonight
I could watch you sleep the years away
and count the very breaths you take
the most honest I can find in this town

Darkness be over me, my rest a stone,
Be thou in Adam’s room

we walk down roads without light
the only living souls about
walking under stark October trees,
and I care not what comes from the dark,
because you stand so close to me
how can there be a thing like fear,
when one feels just like this?