Refresh

By Jonathan Gonzalez | 06/14/2010

The way the sky falls
is the way I know everything will be alright, 
one day, somehow. 
It’s my way
of seeing that the world is too perfect for anyone to see
and that most have given up.
People’s mistakes are their misfortunes, but our luck.

We are able to see what went wrong
and go on to never create the same misfortune upon ourselves. 
As I sit here with the ability to learn, 
my head feels damp with pressure
that builds upon itself like a disease,
but as the piano rolls out the notes into the air around me,
I feel life and my release. 

To somewhere we’ve never been before!

By Jonathan Gonzalez | 05/10/2010

It’s amazing. It is.  
To stand still after the chaos cleared
and the wind blew everyone away.  
Except for us.
We blew everyone away.
And isn’t it amazing:
the power it takes to run the lamp that lights us?
To keep it bright, secure,
is something so appreciated,
I could never thank you for it.
Can’t do it. Won’t do it.
You know better.
Let’s go!

Tonight

By Jonathan Gonzalez | 04/21/2010

The world is at peace.
Again realizing how lucky I am to be here.
Once more I can close my eyes
to envision the furthest reaches of Earth
and all that there is to offer.

Take me, please,
to where I need to see,
to gasp, to breathe, for life.
To be sitting here,
writing this to you, is only luck.
And I, my friend, am the luckiest.

SKICK’s

By Jonathan Gonzalez | 03/04/2010

Some Colorado street somewhere,
ignoring the lights under the California night,
just trying to drive home,
and leave the escape
that only took me 15 miles to get to.

What a peace I found in a world so unfamiliar.
But there I was, for the last time
I leave the place hidden in the back,
full of love, full of love.

They don’t care.
They don’t want to hear it.
Just live among them.
You.

Remembrance

By Jonathan Gonzalez | 03/01/2010

I remember when time stopped,

and all that was left was the silence that
filled the room,
like the haze on a cloudy day,
or the humidity that fills your skin.

I remember.

I remember mornings of mistakes,
nights of confusion.

I remember.

I remember when I wrote so much I could die.
But it kept me going, so alive, and peaceful.

I remember.

I remember the beauty all around me,
in everything,
illuminated.

Foaming

By Jonathan Gonzalez | 02/04/2010

Hey Dad, they let the dog out.
I can feel her breathing as I sit nervously,
feeling scared in a city I’ve never winced in, but should have.


I knew this would hit me: even the sober get crazy sometimes.
She’s staring. Her teeth are as yellow as a school bus, her breath is hungry.
I am only protected by this locked car door.


But there’s a smirk, or a smile, poking its head out of the anger.
This dog means no harm.
She’s a saint, an angel,
only adapting to her surroundings.

El Pescador

By Jonathan Gonzalez | 01/26/2010

I am the mountain enclosing her.

Endlessly surrounding her water maze,
I breathe harder and shake to void her
to an Earth less pathetic, more than me.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge.

I am the fisherman walking over you,
I need a new way to catch you
and throw you back as I please.

Aimless.

She looks for the opening
somewhere near
the bottom. Failure to achieve this

may cause a life of wonder,

a life uneased.
But she does not look for the answers
because she’ll slowly find a way.

We Ran This World

By Jonathan Gonzalez | 12/26/2009

Where do we go from this point in which

we sit so miserably, facing each other
gracelessly, because of the lack of remembrance
of a time, when we stood atop a buried hill
at some ocean-side piece of land,
more hidden than what was shared
at that moment in time?

A carelessness that was more beautiful than you could ever know.

A lack of direction that put two on a podium
causing ire by everyone who stared.
We loved it: A final year to parade atop the world.

Wind blew your hair to pieces

that won’t leave my mind,
until you die, or I forget,
neither will occur.