she is all the red square cathedrals

dipped in honey.

krasnaya, they say archaically.

to my ancient soul

she is an lp’s grooves, that smile

upon fresh rained pavement or,

gliding under the silvery stars,

cosmos borealis.


she rode her turquoise bike away

on a rainy day near the end of the world.

she had an empty wire basket on the rusted front.


five of us


we’re them’s enabler,

so the dealt is done.


burrow deep our friends,

the sun is hot salt.


them doesn’t like us,

like grapes who eats one?


we knew magic. them

died, smothered from love.


i, in time


i read somewhere that time

   or their time or her time so

   this magnificent quote, i thought

  was not the same to any one person

 and when i came across

 i should take my time

 how my time was different from your time

   caught on a crisp autumn breeze and no more

 slip by the most fluidly, scarves

   and live for the times that seem to

 subject to time than am i.


run away wheel


pitter patter, pink matter,

can you hear the hamster breathe?

pretty lights up resuscitation’s reach

tunnel’s end beyond reasoning up

throw god shaped lightning bolts control-

ed by a rodent spinning out of sight.


pity stares past sight,

look, pay attention, hamster matter-

s aren’t about control,

but correcting the way you breathe

and blank and bring up

how Reich sounds three things away from reach.


hamsters race along sulci reach-

ing down into depths, sight-

ing scopes to clean up

rainbows of red and red matter

that chokes, rainbow roots breathe

for you. what lies? control.


you have black holes in you that control

singular processes like when you reach

deep in your lungs for air, breathe

in singularities hamsters see under a microscope’s sight

so they can tell how the dark matter-

s. so please hurry up.


hipster hamsters know what’s up,

but up can be down if the control

room gets messed up, what’s the matter

with death riding bengal tigers that reach

for food that’s not a sight

unseen in a neuronal ocean that can breathe.


hello house. hello hal. just breathe

pops, read something to keep up

the spirits bought in a paper bag sight-

ed by cops dressed as hamsters who control-

s how now? brown cows reach

for golden status to be false matter.


vital is breathe you while mind in kept, matter

that hamsters own your to up sanity for try a, reach

than perfect more sight no knows control


small birds


i am sitting at the top of a building in the rain

there is always the now if the then was kept forgotten

the cold salt 

a small bird wakes in the nest

eyes open

i like his skin too cool

the small bird cries out on the edge of the nest as the wind whips around

my heart is pattering and he sees it

i am he and he is i

it patters in time with the rain

harder and harder like the ground the bird hits

i lose them to rain down on him and he feels their sound

the pattering heart holds me still and devours me

the shadow deafens him to the birds song

the skin too cool reaches me and I am fed

i am the bird

i am the man

now i can lie like the birds and their young 


by Jacob Valadez


Mr. Valadez is an aspiring writer who is currently attending the University of California San Diego as an undergraduate.

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