storms in pernambuco

 crackles under the cracking sun, crooked and crisp the flowers i brought to your door all those moons ago on the steps under storms and stars, steam and winds they refuse to leave the land of your love abandoned as may be, withered, stale but they stay, the stems, the shriveled leaves in spirals inwards they wait still for the day you come back home to yours they wait still for the day you come back home to yours

  for long i had in my hands a journal and pen, wherever i went. but isn't that obsolete now in digital society? i better get with the times.... i'm ravenskullprince, or....... bento ramones da conceição. ramones is not a surname but part of my first name, "bento ramones".....just like someone can be called "josé carlos" or "ana maria", but with the twist that my mother had only a single disc in her shelf and it was "ramones" - self titled, by, of course, the band ramones. pernambucana in a small countryside town, she thought the name would make others think of me as a gringo, exotic, maybe united statian, just like the punk men in leather jackets she saw on that black and white cover.....but of course preceeding it with "bento" might have foiled her plans from the start. it only gets me a few laughs when i introduce myself..... i'm tall, hunched over, a bit scrawny. white as a ghost, what northeasterns call "galego&quo