claudiapena.com

I’ve loved you
I’ve dreamt you
I’ve built gardens of words around you
Cultivating them so high and wide
They made a fortress of maize
Reaching the unending sky

I’ve shucked stalks of juicy corn
Until my hands were white in pain
Each kernel was a sonnet
and ode, a thought
a song of longing for you

I’ve slept walked you,
Rubik’s cubed decoded you
Splatter juice caress
Express a verse about you

I’ve fled to lands far apart
And rivers old and fragile
Captured with the comfort of my third eye
Simple gifts of land and words,
So you know how much I adore you

Tonight a kiss
My head a bird’s egg
Nestled deep in your Mayan
thorax full of caged desires
My hands weave course
invisible hairs of your chest
My body stirs
giving your soul its room

I fall asleep
in Dali dreams
Wishing your lips still consumed me alive
Wishing the fire burnt bright
Wondering if you really enjoyed me
As if my eyes weren’t moist enough
from the last farewell
I order a retreat of memory to its furrow

I kiss goodnight
the cold side of my bed

E. Andrade, “Forbidden Words,” is one of Portugal’s most famous poets. “All is fire, all is desire.” –EA

Instructions on Getting Over Heart Break

The ugly truth of the matter is that you don’t. You just bite the time who will in turn erase the memories or the significance of that picture on your wall, the dreams you’ve installed or the story of that scar. So then the objective becomes: How can I help time heal my heart break? Which brings me to the first point:

Ask, but ask the right questions. Why, on its own is useless unless framed by an A and B. For example, why if you have done this and reacted like that, why change now? Even when framed by A and B, it might still be useless because human beings are creatures of great instability. The best questions come with how, what and I. How can I…?

Answer all questions. Remember, answers are not always spoken or given. If you are reading this, chances are the deal went completely sour like a bad Mexican mafia movie. Some things may never make sense, but you will reveal more information about yourself.

Cry. I have found that the length, volume, and aesthetic value of the cry vary directly to the emotional risk over time spent in the relationship. Wear comfortable clothes for the occasion; I find a hot bath works best. Have plenty of tissues or for longer periods an old t-shirt. Have ready available eye coolers such as cucumber slices or cold packs. Gather yourself in sitting position, hold your handkerchief between your nose or in your hand and sob. Pathetic, loud, and ugly crying is reserved for the comfort of solitude.

Talk about it to your friends, family members, and anyone else who is willing to listen. (Bribes, such as ice cream or chocolate, work.) Caution: what-if scenarios are more useless than useful. While they are a way of challenging your divination powers, it is the perspective that may need adjustment. Also, remember that there is a faith aspect that perseveres and persists for the long run.

Do not employ the use of ambrosial beverages for they tend to make anyone’s emotions even more sensitive. It can make the difference between crying 10 minutes or 10 hours. Whatever the intention may be, it will be poorly conveyed through the phone or physically under such circumstances. Protect yourself from your self by conducting a purge process immediately after the thought. The process should be followed as detailed with room for personal variation at the end. 1) Delete all messages, numbers and email addresses from your tools, notes or phone bills. 2) Block whenever and whatever possible. If necessary, hide the artifacts, but don’t burn or delete. 3) Remind yourself about the negative. You may use your creativity here.

DO NOT contact their mom, family or friends. They are probably going to think it’s a pathetic excuse on your behalf and besides, it’s your problem so you should just deal with it. If such premise is ignored, do not expect any sympathy and accept any superficial agreement. Your words can and will be used against you. Unfortunately, it won’t even be your words but the interpretation of your words from hearsay.

Trust. Trust in a greater being will lead you down the right path, that someone is looking out for your best interest, and that everything will be okay.

Last, employ yourself with the things that make you happy. An atheist friend made the point that neither children or partners should make you happy or complete. Happiness is to be derived from your sole existence, so live it. (Thank you for being my reader.)

So ask, answer, cry, talk, trust and work. You will know you have succeeded this trial if the old artifacts can return to your line of vision without recalling emotion even if they do evoke memory. When reports of your ex-significant other on a date cause neither cursing or crying or cringing because a very dull tip knife dipped in vinegar picante lime tore your heart open like paint to turpentine. And last, you are able to give of yourself, time and love, as freely as you once did. The recovery time varies from situation to individual, but I found ¼ of relationship time for grieving is a good rule to follow but it should not exceed 6 months.

Happy recovery, sweetheart. Have a good day.

Julio Cortazar was one of Pablo Neruda’s favorite writers. The Instruction Manual, first published in 1962 in Buenos Aires, was written from the Hotel Belgium. I end it with a sentence from his introduction before he describes, “How it hurts to refuse a spoon, to say no to a door, to deny everything that habit has licked to a suitable smoothness.”

Susie Main walked down the street,
Not a word to say, instead she growled,
A gruesome growl ready to strike her prey,
Every one knew Susie Main, the oddest girl in town,
She was mean to say the least,
And today she was the meanest,
Her footsteps pound the ground,
We all knew she meant, “Get out of my way!”
From the tall apartment buildings behind the walkway,
Our heads peaked out in fear,
This is the worst we have ever seen her,
The question shouted to our ears,
came directly from our fears,
W H A T I S S H E G O I N G T O D O?
The question lingered longer,
Our hearts shook more in fear,
We were SCARED, PETRIFIED!
And not just silly, sibling, baby whine - I’m scared,
We were SCARED right out of our pants!

She walked with rock fist raised to her chest.
If I didn’t know better I’d say she was a he,
Her arm muscle looked like a baseball behind the tee,
She wore a red shirt and black pants,
Had she killed a bull today? I wondered silentlee,
The short spaghetti brown hair had a boy’s cut,
Parted in the middle, neat and short at both ends,
Oh but the face! I pray never to see that face again,
Even a bulldog couldn’t look any meaner,
More wrinkles than a prune,
Her lips bunched like paper in the middle,
GROWL!
Her nose was wide and flat,
Her nostrils flared back and forth,
A mile away the leaves danced too, on this hot summer day,
W H A T I S S H E G O I N G T O D O?

One brave moment,
While we stood fearfully talking with our eyes,
The girl of my dreams, stepped in front of Susie Main,
Oh no, what is she doing?!
It’s as if she were pointing a loaded gun to her head,
Jane, don’t you know it’s loaded, Jane?
She didn’t move away, didn’t flinch,
Then, then I knew,
That the girl I so deeply loved, wasn’t very smart,
And I would never,
hear her say that she loves me too.

The neighborhood kids watched in silence,
I held my breath so hard my stomach cramped,
Then Jane said, still a statue but with trembling fear,
“Susie Main, you’re so mean and ugly!
Why are you in such a bad mood today?”
The Earth could have split in two,
the Sun could have dropped from above,
All were more kinder,
Than what Susie Main did to Jane Crane,
In an instance to a second Susie Main let out the biggest ROAR!
It was like the lowest loudest trombone combined with an elephant’s shout,
And then, her neck stretched like an Ostrich,
Susie’s mouth suddenly leaped and blocked the heavens over Jane,
In a blink of eye,
Jane Crane’s little toe,
Stuck from Susie Mains proud, long, blood red mouth,
It was a mouthful, for Susie Main,
But she could handle it, all of us knew she could,
We watched her in a terrified surprise,
As she chewed twice and then no more.

I didn’t waste any time to flee,
My life is too precious, and extremely dear,
Plus I’d rather not be where Jane soon will be,
I told my brain,
To tell my legs to go,
Go as fast as wind, don’t you stop!
And I ran,
So fast I could have outran thunder,
Breathing a lifetime, was my only request,
Down the sidewalk opposite of Susie,
Then turned the corner and stopped,
Stopped to let my legs rest and check if I was a fowl in the
supermarket,
No, I saw the others had ran home,
Then I heard and saw the rarest thing I’ve ever seen,
Susie Main spoke, as if she were speaking to me,
(or so it seemed)
“Don’t ask me when,
Don’t ask me where,
Don’t even ask me who and how,
I’m just in a bad mood and it just IS,
So leave me alone, don’t mess with me!
Or suffer the same as she,”
And Susie Main smiled and went away.

I read (actually the librarian read to us “The New Kid on the Block.” It’s a poem from the anthology “Where the Sidewalk Ends.” I thought it was so neat in the fourth grade so it became a myth in my head. This was last modified 5/28/1998

I see brains Pinky, I see brains!!!
Which one is sick? Which one is healthy?
The frontal lobe is lit, does that mean it’s a mental patient?
what were they thinking?….ah, exactly

is color a reflection of their emotion? or their mood?
I wonder if the people can pick out their own brain, if they colored it…
which one is color blind?
Do you think they took this brain picture and told them to feel love?

Haha, comedy is that brains fall upon us,
yet we are still so ignorant to so much knowledge.

Can you see the eyes? Are they looking up or down?
I like the bright yellow green, how about you?

How nonchalantly and tactfully vulgar can you get…
It’s no longer: Hey, your epidermis is showing!
or drop trout for Brown,
Now you get to see my bear brain, GRRRR!
Feel the wrath of the brains….

I wonder why I wanted to go see somebody else’s naked brains.

Nothingness is the beginning
And end of all beings
Therefore, it’s easy to get lost
Standing in the middle of oceans
Waters of virtue
And waves of sin
Vacillate onto shore
Like lunatics on high tide,
It’s so easy to get confused

And even science can’t explain
Witnessed from conception
Until first full breath
2,999,999 sperm die
In search of the Golden Egg
One success
And from that one microscopic thread
We are all born the same,
So if we were birthed from triumph,
why do we regress to failure?

So we walk, stretch, grow
To the beat of the timbales
That clank contrapaso
Swinging to the beauty of life
Praying in solace
For an unabridged passions
That seed into family trees
Leaves that watch the bark wilt

And so we die,
Only to begin again
Where our seed takes off
From the nothingness
Beginning and end of all beings

Art work by Mark Pinon for his closing exhibit: