Author: Oz
The Cancer Moon Reveals
The Cancer Moon Reveals itself to me In its midday shine. No worries of being Too early or too late. Just simply being, Just in its own time. And that power of being Is the Moon's resistance. It is almost imperceptible, The way the Cancer Moon emerges From over the redwood mountains, The way the …
Me Gustaría
Me gustaría compartir este tiempo con otros. Contigo. A invitarles a todos para que podamos disfrutar los días que pasan. Por lo pronto, esto no puede ser. Por parte de mi tiempo Por parte de mi hogar Por parte de mi descanso. Espero que vienes de visita en su propio tiempo. Por lo pronto, voy …
Canker Sore
Hello again. I've been here before, And left wanting Never to come back. This is that place Where I am standing On the edge of something From me, Of me, To you. Only to be surprised by A dagger digging into me, One which paralyzes my being In a sustained piercing pain That inflicts ill …
Between Mundos
I'm in the world between Not a child anymore But not an adult, either Still No es culpa de nadie más que la vida Que mi lengua bien acostumbrada Se falla a unirse con mí mente Me encuentro con una perspectiva Sin idioma para compartir. So how do I act? What cues can I pick …
in bed
I can't stand being sick It knocks me down and I can't get back up Not like I'm used to I want to keep going Keep working Keep playing but it's time for me to stop Until the ball starts rolling once again
What I Learned
"You are so generous" "You hold space for others so well" At least, that is what I've been told But where was that learned? Did I learn it by standing with my dad as he performed auto surgery on the driveway? Did I learn it by shouting "I want!" and being asked "What did you …
Quantum Conduit
If memory is a means Of revisiting the past, Then the photographs we share Are quantum conduits, A visual memory bank That, in an instant, Take me back to That immortalized moment Which captures the essence Of that time and that space. My mind fills with the image Of the place The people The objects …
The Vacuum
Journals are vacuums. Good ones, anyway. The fertile clay of pressed, empty pages beckons to be writ, to become a space defined by your devised purpose.
Currently
If I am a river, does that mean my being is a force that carves a path forward, or am I simply swept away by the currents whim?
Oscar Oz Nava 