Tag Archives: Sergio A. Ortiz

Night Bird

I ask for nothing of this land that has given me everything I loved and hated its men found my Adam            he fled with a bodybuilder as soon as I gained weight I sought God and in his place found knowledge … Continue reading

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Barefooted

            “I was honestly concerned he might lie             about the nature of our meeting”                         Comey before Congress My chest is frozen, Frost Island. In the face of God, there is no kiss going for the coins & the prisoner because yesterday … Continue reading

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The Problem with Traveling

Every time I’m at an airport, I think I should change my life. Behave according to my numbers, set fire to disorder & crawl below the radar like a pit bull ―digging a hole under the fence. I’d be woven … Continue reading

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Red

Why do I paint my lips red when my secrets are hidden in blue? Elegance is a commodity situated in the fine print of my silky innocence. There is strength in water. Water is the freedom I never have. Art … Continue reading

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Simple Luster

I’ve become simple luster louder than a yellow finch breaking into song tearing at the shoulders of silence pressed against the wind of grief Sergio A. Ortiz is a retired educator, poet, and photographer. He has a B.A. in English … Continue reading

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These Gangrenous Days

There are two of us. One soft and white, the other unbreakable, yet forgetful. These days I never blame them. All I want is to listen to him say how much he loves me. he’s been iron butterfly dipped in … Continue reading

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