http://slow.writerscafe.org/Zambrana The original writings of author A. A. Zambrana en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776028558 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I've tasted the bitterest fruit I could findno, this world isn't drying out beneath usthat's just what I've been told to say all this time But I can feel it in my bones,there's something movingthere's something movingI feel a rumblingit's rocking me to sleep You could t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/555335/ What is this feeling that takes me by the wrist,That pulls me to the ground where I can see the stars the best? It's pulling me so close that I can't catch my breath.Is it love that I’m feeling?In the night I hear this noise swimming through the trees, in the day there's this somet.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/474499/ On the sunniest days I know it's you callingbut I am so afraid of the nightI am curled up so tightwith all the other stonescracked beside the sidewalkthat leads straight to you I hope the midnight wind will roll me back on trackroll me down the way to youtoo scared to come.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/404039/ Oh how the darkness crept and folded over the light in my eyes and left only a sweetness so smiling it ate through my teethAnd I was a darkened sweet thing starving for airI was sinking into stone for some depthbut found myself spread across the surfaceand weakened into the thinnest matt.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/385264/ There was breath in my lungsas there was breath in your fingertipsyour nails against my walls, pushing and pullingThe music from your box sticking to the edges of my heart-shaped holeYour blood rushes through for both of my burdensyour hands reaching out just to relieve themTomor.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/383618/ I am not quite the same as I used to beand into this notion I press everything I hope forbecause I am tired of my hopessticking to my fingertips aimlesslyI am doubling upand looking your wayto show that I am seriousBut I fear I am not as convincingas I want to bebecause I am .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/346342/ We are blistered heartsshuddering from the frictionand no matter how hardwe break our cheeks to grinwe are still wearing thinSo lick your teeth whilethey're still in your headand bite the breasts of your lovers, one by onewhile you can remember their facesBecause all is ove.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/342933/ We're kicking through this wooden wallto get what we deserveAnd though our knees are bustingour feet bleedingour bones breakingwe keep kicking because we have bones to spareThis lumber is thickand our skin is thinbut the wind is still heavy with the thudding noises of o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/342926/  Breathe for nothing                    Breathe for breadthThe steady cycle                     .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/340448/ There is an architectural growthwelling up within our tissue and membranesforming from the most basic of our fibresthe buildup making it difficult to move   without releaseWe are like trembling faucetsanxious of what might out pour from within usof what is pushing froward f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/339139/ You move with mewherever I goand I am never apart from youEven in the wombyou formed with meand as I pushed to standfor the first time you helped to level meNow while I wander on the rockmy callouses are yoursWhen I sit you rest with meWhen I dance you lead meWhen I ach.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/339135/ We know not what we love so dearly. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/338917/ Recently edited, and more concise. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/323062/ A nice little metaphor written on a rainy day http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/301932/ The bare mattress creaked lazily beneath her as she sat up in the blackened room. On the nightstand a small clock blinked red eights, lighting the dark room in dim intervals. It had displayed nothing but eights for the past three months; she’d found it easy to forget it was there.  She sw.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295858/ There was death in his eyes. At first glance, he was nothing more than a scrawny boy with pale lips and wind-blown hair, his knuckles pink from the cold as he scratched hopscotch boxes on the creaking boat dock with powder blue sidewalk chalk. The second time she looked down at him, crouched on his .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295855/ Open your eyes http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295849/ I believe I wrote this one just after I turned 15. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295816/ Something I wrote when I was 14. I knew heartbreak. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295805/ We're all left behind. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295800/ Your soul is a store-bought metaphorquivering atop your diaphragmIt's still sticky withanonymous fingerprintsand spilled liquidsfrom the bottom of the barrelBut all in all it was a good dealso you got an extra setand stuffed them in your pocketsAnd when this one breaks do.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295190/ We are separated by the blankets strewn along our street waysWe can't wait forever to pick which guise to hide beneathStanding on the sidewalks we wonder if its too risky to mixStripes with plaids, browns and blacks, but we need coveringSo we think it over some more and we .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295188/ For Konrack http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295177/ Slow, steady, justified suicide of the soul. Mmm mmm good. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295165/ Everything is cracked and misshapen beneath this groundand our ankles are twisting along the wayIt's difficult to say who stood highestwhen you carved a yoke from a tree to keep us togetherThe sound of our spines jangling in our necksloosened from the pull, filled my earsour knees .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295161/ We interlock our four hands to make a cradle for our offspringpious devotion, our sour blossom blooming outward within our palmsIt is a sickly yellow-green, a regurgitated tint welook past in order to recognize the simplest factorIt belongs to usWe nurture it with our sweat beads a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295151/ Our bones are mysteries, even to ourselves. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295147/ The hole your fire burnt into my chest is crusted brown and black around the edges    my opaque nails pick and flake the skin from the centeras it continues to drop out wisps of smoke    the streams are too heavy to swim up to the ceiling these daysand.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295143/ "Here, here!" to organized religion! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295142/ For my best friend http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295132/ Il y a la bêtise dans notre sang http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295128/ Notre faim arrête nos coeurs http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295125/ Written during the December '07 ice storm. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295107/ One might say this is the sequel to my poem This Time Fading http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295105/ The deliciousness of ignorance... This was hand written one very gray day while Andrew Bird's song Cataracts played on repeat for hours on end. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Zambrana/295103/