Art

The folds of your heart

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Years of poetry

I woke up a poet
Most days in those years
In the beginning I was a painter
But my colors always ran
When the sun shone I was an athlete
Near water I was a fish
I wanted nothing more
Than to become the air, or the sea
Some days we philosophized
Touching a metaphysical reality
As we imbibed all of our indulgences
But most days, I woke up a poet
Those years were riddled with questions
That came about as I wandered
Down dusty paths
And forgotten alleyways
Questions that played out in my mind
In verse and in rhyme

Turtles in Monterrico

Turtle mural

Turtle mural on the beach in Monterrico, Guatemala