I’m heading back,
or so I was told by you
I was, (I am) lost in myself
I thought I didn’t know what to do

Stay safe, friends
(they are, and) she tries to let me know
But when I stop and get home
I forget where to go
I lose myself again
Like that time in the snow

They say: where are you?
Well, here in Kalamazoo
I’m walking ever since
Looking for a time that true
Learning that intensity is not quality. and
Patience is a virtue

If the dream is really over*
I still have time to realize
Because half of the (good) answers
Are all in my mind

Time could tell me
If I just knew where to find.


July 8, some(time)where between Kalamazoo, Macon, and Contagem.

*Has it ever happened?



I am like a man that looks to a mirror
And then forget how he was
A dog eating from the leftover of a banquet
Vomit-tasting stuff
I am a wayward kid
With a slingshot I killed a bird

It’s all over my hands
Fingers sticky with blood
But hitting the man in the mirror
Was not redemptive enough

I could not look that friend in the eyes
After all I have done
Because I know he was looking at me
Going away with that gun

He told me I was ending up getting hurt
I said they were only a piece of art
But after firing thousand shots
I keep aiming at my own heart

My fears, I told you
They never go away
Because when blood is in my hands
I just invite them to stay
So when I cry and whisper
It’s because I don’t know what to do

All I thought was that my fear
Was buried with you


June 3rd, 2016 in Macon, GA.


I always thought I lived in America, which is true.

The continent Columbus found out of the blue.

We were once the West Indies, the amazing wonder

The land without cities, wilder and stronger.


I don’t really know why we are called North, Central and South America.

We are so different we could have different names.

Long ago, we were all attacked


By people who thought the land wasn’t meant to be shared.


And this annoys me,

Because I am part of this people too.

We are all unstoppable

And this could be our doom.



Why only the “UnitedStateners” are called Americans?

I am sure this is our own fault.

Because “we” adopted the latino identity

Which is American, after all.

Don’t boast of your origins

They are as good as anyone else’s.

I’m only saying that because my instructor said

Americans like it fast and direct,

Which is true.


December 9, 2015

I am looking at your American face

I am looking at your American face

White Anglo-Saxon Protestant

Blue bright eyes with a friendly smile- I wonder why.

Would you be brave enough to be seen with me?


I am looking at your American face

African resilient Baptist passionate

Beautiful – I wanted to talk with you

But your friend said: “You can’t sit with us”


While I am looking at your American face

I dare to caress your atheist, avant-garde short hair and wonder

Why don’t you have a spirit? This is so progressive,

So aggressive that it gives a little kick in my rope of hope.

Stumbling back to my comfort zone, I


I am looking at your American face

Mexicana devota de la Virgen Maria

and feeling that my face is like yours

but my spirit is not – you speak Spanish on the phone.

Dios mio! I love your accent.


Through your eyes, I look at my non-American face

Part of me says: You don’t belong here

The other part cries: Jesus, help me in this day.


Now I am looking at your Brazilian face

I maliciously wrap my arms around your waist

You look to me and say: “Ta louco?”

So all of a sudden your face becomes American.

then I –


I am looking at your American face and whispering

In God we trust.


December 10, 2015