full of bedbugs under the dead willow,
where the tears of every lover
in town are as open as red hibiscus.
It was the only place left to wait.
We went our separate ways,
but when I reached the train tracks
I picked up a few rocks to throw
at the racemes of trouble hanging
in the meadow orchard ahead.
My feet, undefined wanderings
of a bite, were in pain
as I suspect they will continue
to be until my time spills over.
I knew there was a mystic
in the ordinary--(à la Rilke) that would carry me
(Oh Orpheus sings! Oh tall tree in the ear!)
through the rest of the day,
like that first cup of coffee,
or a prayer chanted in the
Ortiz has a B.A. in English literature from Inter-American University, and a M.A. in philosophy from World University. His poems have been published, or are forthcoming in: The Acento Review, Poesia, The Driftwood Review, Words-Myth, The Taj Mahal Review, and other journals and anthologies. His chapbook, At the Tail End of Dusk (2009), was published by Flutter Press.