February 2012
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January 2012
8 posts
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Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow
Sleepy Weso (Photo by X.A. Medina)
Today I woke up at 1:30. I think I have seasonal depression. I went and got a coffee and a muffin with K. After we went to the coffee bike shop where I talked to the guys about boxing up my bike for my Puerto Rico trip.
K had to get ready for work so I went to Grumpy and had a tea and worked on getting health insurance and emailing some people.
I dropped my...
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justoahora asked: Hello, where are those sentences from? the ones written on you photos
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December 2011
4 posts
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November 2011
4 posts
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Dreams from a Photo
I saw a small kitten sitting outside a fruit and vegetable shop. I watched her lick her paws with a grace only felines had. She looked boredly at the street watching people flurry by on foot or bikes, or in buses. I felt a kinship with the kitten. Both of us unimpressed by the bustling Brooklyn street but neither of us making any movement to leave it.
I closed my eyes and let the sun drench my...
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My last title for this sucked... This one does...
I dreamt of a new girl last night. She doesn’t exist but in my dreams. I figure it is better to dream of a woman who doesn’t exist than a ghost who will never return.
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The crowds on the street dwindled. There’s nothing like a winter to break a revolution’s heart, he thought. He crossed the street alone. An umbrella in each hand. You never know.
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October 2011
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Words to Make Love to Your Old Lady By
Photo by Me
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I enjoyed her brown skin and black hair. Her gray eyes and pink finger nails. I liked how she speckled her English with Spanish y viceversa. How her insides contradicted her outside.
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I sat with my bag of dominoes at the bar down the street waiting for a partner to play. I read my favorite author (you know the one) as I wait. “Keep on reading baby, it’s...
September 2011
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Black Rabbits and Bloody Chickens
(Photo by X.A Medina http://lepoet.tumblr.com/)
I need my space. There is this urban legend that Greenpoint is hard to get to. It’s not. But I let the legend live on. Whenever someone asks me how I like Greenpoint, I say, “It’s wonderful, but it’s hard to get to.” I like my own space. I like that the bar next door to my apartment, The Black Rabbit, is oftentimes empty when I go in during the...
August 2011
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Another Guatemala City Excerpt...
I haven’t updated this in awhile because I am working on my longer project, (I refuse to call it a novel) but trust me I am still working and writing. Another part that can stand alone I think.
-Wes
Photo by X.A. Medina (http://lepoet.tumblr.com/)
I closed the door behind Camilia and called my mother. She was her usual self. Telling me about the movies she went to go see, the latest...
July 2011
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June 2011
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Taqueria Castillo B
Photo by X.A. Medina (http://lepoet.tumblr.com/)
I landed in San Francisco and took the BART into the city. I got off and walked down Market Street. I ordered tacos and a Modelo from Taqueria Castillo B 2 on Mason Street. A black man noticed my backpack and asked me if I had been to all those places that my patches showed. I said I had. He asked me what made me want to go to all those places. I...
May 2011
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Guatemala City Excerpt...
Photo by X.A. Medina (http://lepoet.tumblr.com)
During the days Dani would disappear with Victor. I never asked where they were going. I figured Dani would tell me when she was ready. I also liked the mystery. I liked that I knew very little about her. I didn’t know her last name or much about her family or friends. I knew she lived in Brooklyn like me. We liked to name favorite bars and wonder...
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The Opening...
Photo by X.A Medina (http://lepoet.tumblr.com/)
I sat on the plane cupping the small box on the tray in front of me. I would open it a little, just to make sure the ring was still there. That it didn’t somehow fall out the bottom.
I pulled out my journal, and continued to work on my list. You know the one, that list. The list that no one admits to having. The list of past lovers, past sexual...
April 2011
3 posts
Bitch
Photo by X.A. Medina (http://lepoet.tumblr.com/)
(Censored) turned back around as we sat at a red light, she looked forward with bored eyes. In front of the SUV was a handful of street children in torn clothes. Three boys, and a girl who held a baby. The three boys did a human pyramid, the two older boys on the bottom, the smaller one on top, juggling three dirty tennis balls. Meanwhile the...
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Beautiful Cliché
Photo by X.A. Medina (http://lepoet.tumblr.com/)
Best Coast played on the laptop,
the cat watched with curiosity,
the water fell to the drain
scurrying along her smooth brown skin to get there,
navigating the curves with ease.
She ran soapy hands along his back and shoulders,
He rinsed his body and kissed her,
she laughed, the beautiful cliché not lost on either of them.
Tommy
(Tommy and I, Savannah, GA 2003)
My friend Tommy passed away this week. He was one of the greatest guys I have known. He was an amazing artist, a truly giving soul, and had the greatest spirit and outlook on life it would sometimes drive me crazy.
Tommy would always hit me up on Gchat, iChat, facebook chat, basically anything that had a chat and say “What’s happening Wes? Let’s get a drink...
March 2011
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The Only Address I Know
photo by X.A. Medina (http://lepoet.tumblr.com/)
I write her an email a postcard (it’s more romantic this way). It says, “Every time I travel I want to travel with you.” I send it to her mother’s house for that’s the only address I know.
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Her Favorite Part
Photo by X.A. Medina (http://lepoet.tumblr.com/)
Her favorite parts were when the author revealed the meaning of the title. I always try and guess yours she says, as she snuggles her face in between my shoulder and my neck. I’m never right though, she giggled and kissed my ear. But it’s okay, cause I think of my own story and it’s always different. So I get two in one. She slides on top of me...
February 2011
4 posts
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The One Before, The One After
Photo by X.A. Medina (http://lepoet.tumblr.com/)
There was one before this one, and there was one after this one. But this one. This one. She was special. Perhaps she was only special because she never let herself get boring. Perhaps she was only special because it was short and incredibly sweet, too sweet even. Maybe it was only romantic because they had lived together in Brooklyn, drank 4...
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The Charleston
Photo by X.A. Medina
http://lepoet.tumblr.com
A man leaving a bar with power tools is a scary sight indeed.
The cop car sat next to the broken light post as it lazily leaned against the brick building on the corner. The cliche of doughnuts and coffee was not lost on the two cops who munched and drank while the lights gleamed on the roof of their car.
She walks past me, not noticing me...
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He and I
Photo by X.A. Medina (http://lepoet.tumblr.com/)
The cars came crashing at night. The lights flickered death as the accelerators got stuck in drive. Three attempts and he couldn’t make it into the city. He was paralyzed in the rotting suburbs with the thin televisions projecting beautiful people onto the faces of the fat ugly spectators. Insecurities drilled into their foreheads as their...
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Footsteps on the Stars
Photo by X.A. Medina (http://lepoet.tumblr.com/)
The boring man mumbled, or maybe it was my brain didn’t care what the boring man had to say. I couldn’t decide as I didn’t fight the yawn that came over me. When the yawn was over and I opened my eyes, I saw through the blur of the tears that had been squeezed out during my yawn, her. She was in the corner of the party, which was strange...
January 2011
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Last Stop
(Photo by Me)
He met her with two coffees and a smile. Made her laugh and blush, hiding her face behind her shawl. She was nervous, he liked that. They got to the entrance of the subway, what are you going to do now? she asked. I got nothing planned, ride the train with you to your work maybe? She paused for a second, then, Okay.
As he sat on the train her sleepy head on his shoulder her...
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26
Photo by X.A. Medina (http://lepoet.tumblr.com/)
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He sat at the new coffee shop next to the old tattoo parlor. He sipped his coffee and three Chinese entered separately but all forgot to close the door behind them, both ways, for a total of six times. He read the Bolaño book his roommate had given him. After every poem he looked across the park for the old girl. Whose interest in he was...
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Burnt Tongues and Cherry Chapstick
Photo by X.A. Medina (http://lepoet.tumblr.com/)
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Basquiat called from the afterlife, he said, paint my child. I responded, But I’m a writer. There was a pause and then, Sorry must have the wrong guy. I said, It’s okay, but what’s it like being dead? It was too late, Basquiat had signed off of Gchat.
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Their boots clicked and echoed off of the wet concrete.
They walked to...
December 2010
4 posts
tumblrbot asked: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE INANIMATE OBJECT?
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Cool Kids, Warm Bars
Photo by X.A. Medina (http://lepoet.tumblr.com/)
She left and with her went the warm air, it was as if she bottled it all up and took it with her west, or south, or wherever it was she went. In her void was a coldness, the kind that left your bones aching and your skin chapped. However, like always with the cold air came the warm bodies.
But with the warm bodies comes the fleeting feelings,...
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The Story of Cinco
Photo by X.A. Medina (http://lepoet.tumblr.com/)
El Poet rolled another cigarillo as one hung between his lips. It was April but their shirts were off revealing a smattering of tattoos that checkered their bodies as they lay atop Wells’ loft in Bushwick, the tar roof warming their bodies from below.
Why you rolling two? Wells asked.
Mano, today is your birthday, everyone must smoke a little...