Photo by Dorlly de la Cruz

The woman sat before the ocean. The sand under her palms and buttocks was still warm after a sunny cloudless day, and she got rid of her shoes and socks. The skin of her feet was warmer than that of her palms, and the plants of her feet hugged fondly…

“Relationship” Inktober | Day 09 by annamachtart

“You are too into your head”,
she said and a thunderlight struck my body.

First of all, word lightning feels like an unbearable fire
gorging and boiling within every cell;

Then comes the shock, the shivers and a
penetrating cold rises as the lone remnant of the previous fire
giving way to…

“Full Moon hug” by Isabel A Hermosillo on Unsplash

The night of full Moon
reunited several nocturnals.

Feeble candle’s light created the silence;
and a city beyond our sight
did nothing to hide the Moon
— whose rays shone up and above
from the observants of the night.

Chants emerging within smiles:

“Fire, sacred fire
burning through the night
come to me in my sleep time
bring me visions of light”

And the fire within us was but a silent dancer
as incense floated around our eyes.

Bodily spellcasting;
sometimes, you are hugged
through the feelingly warm contact
of other bodies.

Como caracoles, cargamos a cuestas
(y un trazo de baba, como magia, desaparece)

“Snizard Snail Wizard” by scrixels

Cuando viajamos, creemos que dejamos todo detrás, seguramente alojado en el lugar que llamamos casa. …

Photo by Isabel A Hermosillo on Unsplash

Las olas rompían impetuosas contra la costa. Mientras el horizonte de mi pecho se teñía de un rojo cobrizo y el vacío se hizo uno con cada una de las distintas tonalidades de azul que bullían bajo el espejo del océano.

Este era mi pecho, ésa era su forma y…

A photo of a polar bear swimming in a deep dark ocean. The polar bear is seen from above; his fur is quite white.
“Hope” by Fernando O’Farrill

I often feel as if I was drifting across a cold ocean on the night of the new moon.

It was the end of it all. Ice was melting everywhere around
in the ways of ancient ships. These were sheer empty.

I suppose they carried my thoughts, and sometimes they…

Era una mariposa del tamaño de la montaña
atrapada en la casa de los buddhas y bodhisattvas.
Era una mariposa que no veía el vidrio

/ que la separaba del sol.


It was a butterfly the size of a mountain
trapped in the house of the buddhas and bodhisattvas.
It was a butterfly who couldn’t see the glass

/ that kept her from the sun.

Isabel A Hermosillo

Writer, saunterer, and tea contemplator. Stories get tangled among my hair and take the form of writings, poems and photography. Bilingual zealot.

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