Jason Paul Monlinong

There is something spiritual
In your stares, in your hugs
In the close space
between our tounges.
...

for e. hernandez

there is much to believe in what you have
...

Insomuch as we have the winds on our face tonight
The ocean commends us not
...

Perhaps to love is to burn in hell without remorse
Since, in the days that I did, I had no recourse
...

there is no poetry to write
even as with one night
the dance that was shared
rocked the room that was bare
...

it is not often that clouds become spotless
and if it were spring in Tuscany, I would not
for the world, miss such a pricless surprise
not even if you're in bed and your voice remain sultry
...

I write, as if for the first time I learned to write.

There is heaviness
...

Should I wait longer than necessary?

What is that part of me that fears you?
...

You could have grown

Towering skyscrapers by your foothills
...

You are to me the moon.
As I feel like I'm the earth,
You make me swoon.
Show me your worth
...

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