I. Quatro Poem by Edwin Torres

it is like a discovered dream
lodged in the memory from a mountain's mist
swaying through underbrush, thick as mountain coffee
culembra-steps over plantain leaves
giant, gold dewdrops
big as a 5-year-old cousin
coqui children
flying with the dragon-flys in the hot morning sun

rice-cooked altar made of mango splinters
a shanty that smiles a toothless road
where pebbles' carpet vacuums the soles of your feet
pond-reed twistle in a little boy's ear
he imagines another world
in a carpet of indians and drawings of mispronounced toys
en la mañana, boricua's
curve is in solace to aroma's benediction
a salvation of home, in the clouds
there she is, waving to us
in all of her lifetime's forever
a memory of moments passed by, lived now, dreamed then

butterfly's mother
father's beauty, flies me
in this sun

No?
Si! me luna
mi sol-viento
this sol-breeze catches a moment
uno...dos...tres...quatro...
supre, sopla, sopre, ocho-nevida
siempre, simple, canta-me, sensei en la noche, montaña
y no es mi vida, querida
me toca, medina
tan sangre de sante
escucha-me-shhhhhhhhh...
'xquisita
moment-ah-ahhhh-ahhhh-tatatata-TAN,
ahhh-ahhh-lalalala-LA,
lah-lah-lalalala-LA, tan-tan-tatatata-TAN

y-uno...dos...tres...quatro...
y-uno...dos...tres...quatro...
y