Cam Villanueva, Writing Page 2

Shoveling in haricot verts

In our red underwear

You and me light

The candles. The fright

Of no light, the night

Drives us

In our insanity we rest

By the fire and do our best

Impression of lovers

Darkness hovers

This you and me omnibus

Let the rain fall on me

The thunder makes us dance

Let the lightning light our way

On this syncopated romance

7/20/23

Night

So quiet, the memories

Of being in Florida that time

At night, and the sound the boats make

At the docks, the sound that water makes

The next day at the beach and sunburned

Naps in the kitchenette hotel room

Dad cooking some fish he caught

Back to the night and the hotel arcade

Saw a girl there and we played a game together

I miss the sounds of the night

7/29/23

Old

Notebooks

Of when I first came here

To Japan

A place of many beers

I used to have a lot of fear

I suppose I’m a man

Now. Not off the hook

For being a whiny boy

So often. Used to be a cook

I’m in Japan man. Wow.

His coy

Mistress abounds

I’ve found

A new place to

Call home

Deep in the sand

Lot of loose screws

Place not like Rome

7/10/23

Omaha 

Is really far away

Aloha

Then they give you a lei

I’d rather be on an island

Feeling the breeze, taking a dip

Have my toes caked with sand

Never want to return from the trip

I’m thinking of a place called Boracay

It’s also far away and not easy to get to

I’ve been there twice but will try

To return to the white sand, the sea blue

Walking across Manila that day in 2006

8/5/23

Picking the nose digging digging digging in the nose is where it’s at. The nose, an instrument, a tool of discovery, a place where things go and leave from, a mysterious place guarded by many black hairs some turning gray.  

The night is lonely but sounds outside. No sounds inside except for my key strokes. Stroke. Toke. Folk song sung by the man Bobby D. and his crew the guys I like the Band they are cool. Scratching and sleepy in a dream fog haze can’t stay awake much longer want to curl curl curly into bed and dream, dream of some other place, not this poem, this shitty shitty shitting poem, too hard on myself, love me love me love me, do me do me do me, squeeze me, rub me, cuddle me, hug me, kneed my dough into position, your volition, got no crimes I want to commit tonight except for sleep. Too many white spaces on this page. Nothing will ever get done under the sun. sleep sleep sleep. Rest rest. Dream.