Cruz vs. Machado

By
I've found my second wind,
but I want to quit.
Back to the beginning,
but with fear in heart,
determination in mind.
I have Experience under my wing,
my heart is on hanging off my sleave.
"Hombres necios que acusais a la mujer"
this was carved in the diamond of my mind.
His startling fluid self erased any trace of it.
How?
Only diamonds can facet diamonds.
My scintillation disturbed by an equal.
Perhaps, afterall, the sonet way was not for me.
For is it not too structural?
It gives me the satifaction of a gem marking on diamond.
None.

Free verse
that's what will overtake me,
me and my sporadic mind.
Once mentally, obsessively fixated
upon the metric pattern and must-be way.
A gleaming wall, that diamond,
simply a guard, a watch,
risen from the dust, dramas and novels of love,
carved by my sisters.
Perhaps also from the longest, intricate, epic story of love,
my brother's.

Carpe diem should sieze my mind.
"Juventud nunca vivida, quien te volviera a soner!"
Ahora es el tiempo,
tomorrow,
a day too far.
Perhaps I've learned,
I knew of all of love.
I viewed it through a protective one-sided mirror.
Then I stepped in the room.
Raw. My brilliancy uncontrollabe.
My crude self vulnerable.
A self-conscience break-down through my brain.
Now, thoughts put to hand, put to paper,
I cringe for an epiphany, for the paper to respond.
It is blinded by the rough light I give. Uncontrolled.
Quizas the epiphany is not
to understand a sonet and free,
to understand how my tzarish diamond was tainted, or beautified
to understand love and amor,
to understand the dissecttion of what I don't know
But to see that
the questioning,
the Experience,
the dissection,
the shear wanting to understand,
the determination in mind,
the fear in my heart
Might be enough to keep my brilliancy,
unrefined or not.





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