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The Holy Grail

Posted by arley sanchez on March 1, 2011 at 6:21 PM Comments comments (1)



In my solitary search

for the Holy Grail,

I believed I knew

what I would find,

but its discovery so unexpected,

so surprising, so much time lost

so much yet to gain.

not a gilded goblet

set in jewels,

nor a sheep's skin

suspended from tree

of life,

never stored on crusader's

route nor in Joseph's

captive prayer.

My solitary search

revealed in a sanctuary


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Willing Dead Presidents

Posted by arley sanchez on February 15, 2011 at 3:05 PM Comments comments (0)


Oscillating lights spill electric paint,

techno touches

vanilla scented dancers


willing dead presidents

cling to red satin

and black lace,

techno pulses,

thigh high leather

and black stiletto heels.


Wild frenetic strokes

tapped on a hardwood floor,

oblivious to crack of guns,

a figure outlined in chalk

on the sidewalk,

grasping bloodied

dead presidents,


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Posted by arley sanchez on February 6, 2011 at 9:08 AM Comments comments (0)


Strawberries on bread pudding

like the ones of your lips,

this wintry afternoon belied

by a warm sun,

filtering through the window,

you were like the strawberries

glistening with an aura

sweet and firm, and I

bent forward, both dipped

in sugar, strawberries and you

sweet like the kiss

we left in the air.






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Posted by arley sanchez on February 3, 2011 at 2:25 PM Comments comments (0)


You call yourself an American,

a Mexican-American.

Hyphens divide

and so does a leaky border.

Every time there's a crime,

it's by black or brown grime.

Don't believe me,

just watch the TV.

I pay good taxes to keep you

where you belong,

safely behind bars. safe for you

and for me.


Brown's not a crime,

 you call me mojado,

but my back is dry,


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A Yearning

Posted by arley sanchez on February 3, 2011 at 2:19 PM Comments comments (0)


Look in my eyes, deeply,

I have control now.

I love you like myself,

but I have come close to extinction

so many times, and now again.


She calls and I am here,

where the air is frozen,

and I am afraid, paralyzed,

and so is she.


I could have solved this with courage

a word, but I am watching her die,

someone I grew to love,

someone who knew she was dying

by the look ...

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Little White Boots

Posted by arley sanchez on February 3, 2011 at 2:11 PM Comments comments (0)


Ten years after you packed up

and moved away,

they say you've found

the floor again,

your feet kicking up

in little white boots,

found your rhythm,

found your rhyme.


So long ago, yet your scent still

lingers like incense,

your eyes once so adoring

frost on a sultry summer night,

captured lies

chased in circles

flame and flicker,

then go dark.


I remember summe...

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