mis pobres ojos rojos

since stumbling into this dustbowl

a year ago

my eyes have been red

i’ve left three times

minnesota

the yucatan

sinaloa

the whites of my eyes

appeared again

the dust

the work

computer screen

textbooks, workbooks

insomnia

drinking

rage…

any direction i look

bleeds the eyes

all the visine in the

world won’t fix

these poor windows

into this bloody soul

there’s only one remedy

and it’s moving on

only new sights

can save these eyes

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About npeligeiro

N. Peligeiro is still trying his hand at teaching and learns more as he goes. He doesn’t subscribe to that whole “those who can’t do, teach” theory and he repents for being less than a model student back in Minnesota when he was young and knew he knew it all. Currently Mr. Peligeiro is probably somewhere in South America, but it’s hard to say because he moves around a lot and burns through money because he has a space between his two front teeth that he hasn’t gotten fixed yet even though an old Chinese sage told him it was bad physiognomy and he’d always have financial problems while the space remained. He likes to write when he’s got something to say. When he doesn’t he keeps his mouth shut and his pen capped.
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