The car rolls on down a western road
And she asks him
'And what are you thinking? '
He smiles as he gazes
...
The nascent glow of my corner lamp
Casts doubt on the walls
Red shadows, lurid and mellifluous
Their tone a knell
...
What angelic chorals sing?
These messengers of heaven
Whose words are none of earth
Rising like mists amid the mountains
...
John was born into a predominantly Hispanic household. His first tongue was Spanish(Castillian) and he has written some poems in this language. He writes what he feels and seldom re-visits his work after it has been done. He is raw and untrained in a classical sense, so his poetry reflects that. He is a writer who dabbles with poems and doesn't fully take himself seriously. He embraces comments and criticism, but seldom reacts to the latter.)
And What Are You Thinking
The car rolls on down a western road
And she asks him
'And what are you thinking? '
He smiles as he gazes
At luminous white clouds
In a cornflower sky
Like a cup of dark blue
With a splash of milk
He sees the sinuous road
Turn to meet them
And a fawn hiding in plain sight
Amazed at what she's seeing
He hears each song she plays
As if they were for him
He feels both happy and sad
At the same time
And it feels like floating
Into a cool, soft bed
The warm sun plays on his skin
While they pass green scrub trees
Cactus and purple sage
He could live in this moment
With her, forever
The question is still ringing
As smiling, he shakes his head gently.
And says: 'Nothing...'