Pambie Herrera's Incence Series

INCENSE

unlit
yet your incense
burns
upon my nose

hungry
for the taste
of pine

being held
by a longing
to swallow
its cone

to feed the sight
that this eyes
were unable to hold

-pambie, 7/18/03



INCENSE 2

incense lit
smokes tendril
into mid-air nest
of woven pine needles
of translucent dreams
in a hazy afternoon

and its scent wafts
past me
that i follow its traces
as it goes back
from where it came
past highways
that knew roses trails
and mountains
that stood for ages
beyond the silhouettes
disclosed not by early fogs

only upon a memory
of wrapped smokes
of the incense burning
and the touch
of its pine scent
sheeting my nose
can lead me back
to your doorstep

and i lit the next
for me to enter
your door

-pambie, 7/18/03



INCENSE 3

what shatters me is:
nothing in this scent
of pine needles
can intrude your sanctuary

for how can smoke sulk back
to a less dense air
that covers your space?

how can this fragrance
unwrap the quietness of you
that scorches distance?

and how can another
incense burn
without losing its scent?

no amount of this burning
can reach you,
no aroma can

for its familiarity
numbed you

the ashes fall in soft laces
giving its last sweet smell
that is my soul

but you never opened your door
you never let me in
your opaque seclusion

-pambie, 7/18/03



INCENSE 4

the pack, empty
incense gone

just the aftermath
of its heavy weeping:
ashes covers
my calloused hands
and smokes
curtaining a translucent
memory

shelved.

soon to fade
with the last trembling scent
rising to my nostrils
that wants to deny
its honeyed suffocation

my eyes closed
to savor the taste
of the last tears
of this pungent burning

as the air blew its last
the smokes clear
yet the fragrance
never left
this i know: it never will

for to me:
i smell the fresh memory
of the pine cones
so close that
the memory became real

the air thicks
with the sweetness
of rose petals
reckoning me
to open my eyes

and when i did,
i realized
that you brought back
the pine scent
right on my doorstep

-pambie 7/18/03

Untitled

your silence
impenetratable

black as ebony
creeping shadows
stealing dusk's
riot of colors

no moonlight
can unmask
the hidden quietude
of my crested
distance

still i securely delight

for unto us...

not even your silence
nor my distance
can blur
intimacy

pambie herrerra,7/8/2003