The Four Faced Wind

Poetry by Valeria Castellanos



The Queen of Bees

The Queen of Bees – ink on paper by V. Castellanos

When I awoke this morning
I found I was a fragile flower
Perched on a sunbeam’s edge

I am inviting you to treat me, today
As a special jewel
A crystal with a thousand facets and inflections
A rainbowed dew drop with uncountable reflections
A holographic fragment containing the entire universe
A flowered, honey bee with sides and angles
You have never contemplated before

If you take up my invitation
I will treat you, in the morning, as an angel
In the afternoon, I will treat you like a king
And, when the fire burns bright tonight
And, you become a dragon
I will treat you as a god

I will be vibrant and perfumed
Enticing, with my eyes, your fires
My seething heart will breathe
Will heave
Igniting your desires

Buddha, secure in his detachment
May disapprove of my excesses
My caresses
My emotion
My devotion
But, I still, will
Bring to you
The pungent nectar
Of ten thousand flowers
Which burst
To quench your thirst

I will dance for you and sing
Give to you, my fluttering wing
Here, beside the blue bell’s ring
I will meet, your sweet demands
I will give to you my sweet hands
I will give to you my sweet dreams
I will give you all my rainbowed facets
And, my sweet sunbeams

If you search my quiet shadows
And, the darkness of my eyes
If you brush away my showers
And, the hush of my disguise
I will invade you
And, persuade you
To believe in myths of old
To believe in warriors bold
To believe my body’s gold
And, that I am
The Queen of Bees
I’m sweet as swamp fed, dogwood trees
Sweet, white clover, honey breeze
Swinging on my high trapeze
Through skies of amber, buzzing, please

My body’s brushed
With pollen’s dust
And, I am here to interweave
I am here to intertwine
I am here to wind
About you
Like a lavish, jasmine vine

I will feed you with ambrosias
Of the sweetest, wild perfume
Distilled from whisps of distant clouds
Which decorate the afternoon
And, the wishes of sweet flowers
Who have kissed the fragrant moon

If you wish me
If you kiss me
If you come and take my hand
You will see me
(You can’t be me
But, I know
You’ll understand)
I am just a fleeting notion
Yet, I am a potent potion
Like the sighs that fill the ocean
With restless waves and breathless motion

When you meet me
You complete me
You mistreat me
You defeat me
Yet, you are my revelation
You are my extreme elation
You compel my transformation

For you, I’ll be my most sensational
In your arms I am insatiable
And, still, I am a fragile flower
Perched on the edge of a sunbeam’s bower
My rainbowed, dew drop wings are sunny
If you kiss me, I’ll turn into honey

Magic Carpet Ride

We are on a magic carpet ride,
On an undulating road of cloud,
We are sailing through jade jungle halls,
Over emerald shade, green light grown walls,
Over seashell sparkles and opal streams,
Our hair kissed about in the gold sunbeams.

‘Round towers and torrents of cloud we fly,
Our wild spirits soar like the birds of the sky,
And, the span of our wings is as wide as the sea,
For I am in love with you,
With you,
And, you are in love with me.

An indigo light,
Floods the sky of our night.
The moon follows soon,
As a worn, silvers sphere,
She smiles like a mermaid,
A soul hovering near,
In an octopus cloud,
Spun of dark mist and swirls,
Medusa’s hair shining with snake spittle’s curls,
And, the span of our wings is as wide as the sea,
For I am in love with you,
With you,
Oh, with you,
And, you are in love with me.

At night we fly soft,
Through the cool Milky Way,
On the warmth of the winds,
Through the sparkling day.
You and I are there dreaming ones.
We are the drifters,
The whispering wind-waifs,
The ghosts of shape shifters.
We are the wandering, wondering nomads,
The pilgrims of spinning-skies wild open roads,
The green flash of sunset, the purple moon’s nodes.
We are children of all but forgotten stars,
Blue-green dreams of Neptune,
Red kisses of Mars.
We are made dizzy by dancing with the rainbow,
Flying with griffins above laughing trees,
By humming in clouds where the bright thunder seethes,
And, breathing the air that the sky giants breathe.

The silver sea shimmers,
Sea glimmers,
Grows wet,
Under our feet,
And, the heat,
And, the butterflies rise,
To a wondrous size.
They glow in our eyes,
And, their flash conjures visions,
Of velvet disguise,
Of orchid brushed breeze,
Of thin, cloud-whisp trees,
Of sky-haloed heron,
And, jasmine kissed bees.

When we come back to land,
Put your hand in my hand.
With hearts still in the sky,
Let’s make love in the sand,
For I am in love with you,
Oh, with you,
And, you are in love with me.

Kiss Me

“Late Autumn”

It is late
The autumn wears away
Into winter mists

The leaves are crisp and thin
Brown, and worn down
Tattered and torn
Gathered on the ground
Remembering the pastel winds of yesterday’s sunrise
Assaulted by today’s cracking seed pods
The vivid colors of the marigolds
And, the pomegranate’s delicious shine
Memories of cinnamon, sharp in the wind
The sting of nutmeg in the bewitching darkness

I am intoxicated by
The blood red, screaming brilliance of life
And, don’t let go

It is late
So, kiss me, quick
In the forest’s shadow
Before I become an autumn leaf
The ravens do not have to know
Kiss me, quick
Before I become a memory

The trees are too busy to care
Self contained, restrained
By their own internal emotions and auras
Gossiping about feathers and the colors of the sky
About the weakening clouds
About the wickedness of winter
About how time takes all
How time will always have its way
But, snowflakes, too
Must have their season and their reason

So, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me
Kiss me quick and don’t let go
Kiss me in the forest’s shadow
The ravens do not have to know
Kiss me here and kiss me there
You can take me, anywhere
With the rising, autumn moon
Brown leaves, breezes, golden wine
With the colored marigolds
With pomegranate’s shine
You can take me, anywhere
Kiss me here and kiss me there
Yet, even though, you let me go
Your kisses I will keep, as mine
Forget-me-nots will bloom, in time
And, I will wear them in my hair

The Blue Mahogany

The Blue Tree in the Everglades by V. Castellanos
The Blue Tree in the Everglades by V. Castellanos

I believe in the internal, chemical connections 
between belief and happiness

I believe I am made of light 
and I am happy 
because the stars sing to me 
and the blue mahogany catches me 
     in her arms and kisses me

I believe I am made of songs 
and I am happy 
because I can catch the wind 
and the shadows of the moon
    before they reach the blue horizon

The blue mahogany believes
she is made of shadows
and I am the kiss of the wind 
She believes the moon is happy 
because I have been caught by the song of the clouds

The wind believes 
the mahogany is made of songs
and I am the shadow of the stars  
He believes the clouds are happy
because the light catches the blue horizon

The moon believes 
the light is made of wind
and I am a song
She believes the shadows are happy
because the stars kiss the clouds

I believe you caught me
in the song of the blue mahogany
when the clouds were made of light
and the wind was made of stars
and the shadows of the moon kissed the blue horizon

You believe I am made of kisses
and I am happy because you are the light of my life

I believe I am happy
because you catch me in your arms
and sing to me the songs 
of the light of the stars 
and the moon’s blue, horizon clouds
and the songs 
of the wind’s blue mahogany shadows

I believe we are made of songs and light
and happiness
because we believe we are in love

I Do Not Trust

To send my love I do not trust 
The eyes of golden butterflies
Nor do I trust the silver glow
Of stardust’s silent flow

I do not trust 
The poems lines 
Not games of words 
Nor tricks of rhymes

I put no faith in velvet petals
Nor in the shine of burnished metals
I do not trust the night or day
The forest’s plumage, bright and gay
Not the sunbeams nor the endless sky 
The wind’s wild song nor his soulful sigh
I do not trust the glyphs, the dunes
The rivers laugh, the songbirds tunes
The thinness of the pale new moon

I only trust he will hear the croon 
Of the howling, magic, midnight loon



The hideous summer is now invading. Can’t escape. He is all pervading.
Overpowering and persuading. Expressive, repressive, heat parading.
Summer returning. Indeed, I am yearning. The whole world is burning.
Ensconced himself, yes, in the heart of the sky. No one knows why.

Smoldering, shrieking, a monster by day.
You can’t make him stop because this is his way.
By night he is tossing and turning and churning.
One hideous eye, open wide, for my sake.
Whatever you say, he still won’t take a break.
His hot breath is keeping the forest awake.
Smothering, smoldering gray soil and leaves.
The humid earth heaves.
In howling, scowling love, with everything green,
Everything unseen, everything throbbing.
Overcoming, overflowing, overwhelming, overblown.
He will become Osiris, the insistent father of fruit.
The unbounded, over lord progenitor.
The expanding, demanding, impregnating God blossom.
Of unclaimed, unnamed, untamed, inflamed fertility,
Bursting through spring’s worn out skin.

Overbearing. Caring. Obsessive, possessive, oppressive.
Protective. Stirs the fire. Inflates the sky. Agitates the air.
Copulating everywhere. Out to increase the world.
Everything is bigger. Everything is growing.
I stop to ask, Where are we going?
Almost the size of a solar system.
At least the size of a star,
Generates his own heat. Heartbeat.
Yang thrilling. Yang fulfilling. Rageing yang. A raping gang.
Abundance, dancing through purple thunderstorms,
Through lightning splashing, thunder clashing.
Enthusiasm. Exaggeration. Exhilaration.
Hurricane hysteria. Mysterious delirium.
Life force flowing, glowing, always growing.
Insatiable. Inevitable. Unrelenting, unrepenting.
Do it now. Don’t wait. Tomorrow is going to be too late.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, the equinox rocks. The autumn shocks.
Tomorrow will turn the tide again. Will let the cold back in.
The summer, exhausted, will start to pale, will turn his tail, will begin to fail.
And so, the fall will make the call, will dance through the day and devour us all.
The world will moan and mourn, forlorn. Gone is the summer. My heart is torn.
Retreat to the frozen nest, to rest. The cold invades my aching breast.

I am no longer burning, burning. Now I am turning.
What am I learning? The world is still churning,
And, I am still yearning.

Why do I moan? I want my own throne.
And, I don’t want you to leave me alone.

Don’t make me pray. Don’t make me pay.
I’m willing to do, whatever you say.
All that I ask of you is, please, don’t send me away.

Hold me and tell me, for I am still yearning.
Tell me again, when, is summer returning?

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