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the rise and fall.where have i been? / my shadow carves a space so small / that sparrows cannot nest there. / what have i done? / my energy is the diffusion …

everything and you.It’s really like a symphony, if you listen close enough. Deep enough. Drunk enough. The moon, and bars and cafes. The desperation, routine,…

mon petit prince by Alondra Blick

When I sit softly, and often on nights like thisIt hollowed me out until you could see the stars through my skin. When life is slow, I map the constellations through my spine. There are m…

Mother.And when it snowed, / crystalised flecks / stacked high, / I always thought of Russia, / of paper dolls / folded inside foreign skirts, / a…

of memory.It is 1939. A man touches my shoulder blade. His hand is heavy and hollow, like a thin rose shell, rocking its loving ocean for eternity.

when there is no one left to take out the trash.There will come a point / when your lover’s body undressing / and dressing again / in the morning / will become an empty ache

I am not an artistMy thumbs are not broken. / I do not worship your body. / I do not worship my death.

my dear.my love for you is born a thousand, dies a thousand deaths each time you open your sleepy hollow eyes.

june, and you are falling out of love.Evening weeps in / with the smell of honeysuckle / and warm wine, / and I know all too well / the way your body moves inside me

in the folds of the seasons.shuffling through the speechless snowdrifts as evening falls. We are always in search of nothing and nothing is what we have found.

Sleeping Weeds by Alondra Blick

remember that, always.The smell of thunder when you lifted your hand past me to light a cigarette. The perfect sorrow of sadness and smoke.

Abduction by Alondra Blick

Two Birds by Alondra Blick

l’amant.Your voice was rain water, a holy temple, bells clanging in the foreign heat

left behind by Alondra Blick

after you.I will listen to the couple downstairs screaming and a dog cooing somewhere past the city. I will leave the radio on classical and listen t…

dear, when I.Occasionally news of you reaches me. A sailboat thrown by the tides or a wind caught in a harbor of tall trees. My heart has set out a sing…

Where the Wild Things Are by Alondra Blick

Today, I wept for the skyHis protective posture and his tired eyes. / He would sing of the shipwrecked, sea foam lovers.

in a car with the lights out.there is a boy, a bright white light of a boy with swan eyes and a voice like the flood water rising slowly in an empty room.

things they never told me.your soft back turning over in the morning. the cold times huddled under january streetlamps. and the way your eyes made me lurch with a jo…

l'ombre. by Alondra Blick

from where we cannot return.What is loved can never be unloved. I have tried for many years. I have buried you deeper than my shame, left you for the death of time and…

Seaside Sky by Alondra Blick

a poem to the men near and far.to the balconies of stars we left hanging across north and south continents, and the memories that i can do nothing with or without.

No Hell by Alondra Blick

This is not a love poem.No gardenia blooms forever. No courtyards echo with faint music. Paris is destroyed by bombs and Argentina sinks under a rising sea-level.

if there was a way to you.this is me blushing as the winter burns its way into spring. this is me writing you a letter in the dark, hoping you will carry it for for …

Guitarist by Alondra Blick

Apples by Alondra Blick

do you remember?Do you remember? How we ate our supper in silence with the south american breeze wrapping us in shades of deep blue and deep green.

the death of horses.In a wide field, I am wrapped in the coat you bought for me. It is cold and the air smells of snow.

the chronicles.your eyes would lift the morning up, like a heavy winged thing, like great birds who move the moon at night through an oil slick sky.

since you left.I knew somewhere, a cigarette was touching your lips. you who are gone from me. you who my hands no longer know.

Layers of the cloakroomWhere the dust of affairs and religion and childhood waft about the sun-shafts. / Where the coat pockets are stuffed with finger streaks.

bouquet by Alondra Blick

how deep, how wide.And the most delicate brush of a hand on a thigh felt like all white things. Winter mornings, church bells and the moon rising, always risi…

AlondraPerfect in your words / and perfect in your silence / you are a rage / of lightning / of sleep / of quiet words beneath the parasol / of wh…

The AnthologyI gather my relics / And dutifully weep. / The disc moon of my evenings / Waters the hushed garden.

lately.dried my hair, walked to work and watched the whole world stabbing itself repeatedly in the back.

how to win a breakup.never say you’re sorry and whatever the hell you do, never be the first one to call back, to talk back, to fall back in love.

the truth of my time.Upon returning in the early spring to the street of my childhood, I walk as the dead might, cold shroud / still covering my eyes.

poem to a man i loved.you were a farmhouse burning in an empty field and if i was an artist painting your eyes that is what i would paint.

the evening fable.Combed the moss out of their fragile eyes. I said, the birds will not find you here you do not need to fear anything of their lonely call.

alondra by sintantosmodals

death continues to seduce me.I have a psychiatrist. A psychologist. A pack of pills and sedatives. I no longer have a lover.

Montreal.I cry from the window because I have never loved a place more than this. Because montreal is you, is the push of your kiss and the grief wh…

Sufjan Stevens by Alondra Blick

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