O! queso what?

What are flowers without the bees,
What of grasses without the breeze?
Nothing the wind if not for the trees,
Nada la quesadilla sin el cheese.

—Terri Guillemets

Ink well

Ink surrounds me all the time
On my bed sheets, recorded in rhyme
Quills ’ever scribbling in my head
Sometimes damnit I forget what they said.
Ink has settled into my fingerprints
But to keep the words I fear to rinse…

—Terri Guillemets

Ink to flesh

Ink to paper is thoughtful
Ink to flesh, hard-core.
If Shakespeare were a tattooist
We’d appreciate body art more.

—Terri Guillemets