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First of all, I have always enjoyed making images not only through drawing and painting but also with words. I have been writing in a sort of “stream of consiousness”, “automatic writing” approach for many, many years. It was not until the late 1980s-early 1990s, however, that I started to write seriously and began organizing my writings into notebooks. Furthermore, while an undergraduate at Alameda College, in California, I considered majoring in writing. Through high school and into college, my initial influences were writers which include literary giants such as Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Edgar Allan Poe, and Ray Bradbury. When I decided to pursue visual arts (painting) as a major in college in California State University, Hayward (now known as California State University, East Bay), I continued to pursue writing alongside my painting. To this day I continue to create poems that inspire my paintings and vice versa. So, what “triggers” a poem for me? It could be a great number of things including a random word or memory that “pops” into my head (and resonates, for one reason or another), images from a dream, thoughts that stayed with me after having listened to the latest news on CNN, or colors that linger in my mind after having experienced them in the evening sky.

The Other Selves

we returned to spend
some time getting lost again
amongst the gems of greens
what gems…they glow and
harbor lizards breaths,
redwood trails and owl dreams

we returned to find
the mind in song once more…
in tune with the sound of streams
what sounds, they flow
and set flight to inner church
lights that whisper in beams

we returned to live
that new day found here,
a home it always seems
what home of homes
where gold of night
and every self redeems



it’s impossible, of course, to stop everything…
there’s always enough debris to clutter the mind
I’ve been given several pebbles
to pave the road ahead
the journey’s open to those with
ideas to grind

it’s impossible, yes, to halt it all…
there’s always a mess to cause a schism
I’ve been given asphalt
to pave a path
the light ahead is eating
off of my prism

it’s impossible, duh!, to just freeze…
there’s always a glimpse, a pause, an aroma
I’ve been given mountains
to seek, to climb
the night inside, however, is a screaming coma,
a screaming coma…



outside there is
a light that shines
from inside
where one can hear
the youthful breathing
of a festive
heart –
all around,
towards the outside
the light


Adorable Flow

energy flows, flows…
within me it enters in abundance…
the senses are a bridge
when I fall with the force of water
like a petal of light
towards the fountain of the intimate
immensity of the divine kiss in my mind…

adorable cosmic flow,
I am yours in
root and constellation
the senses are a river
when I fall in lightning
towards the ecstatic celebration
of the fertile garden where
I find you planting rays of light
and nourishment

you run like the water with its
energy and celestial smile,
smile that makes me flow
smile that imitates the sun…
and for its abundant warmth,
I jump as I laugh
because I enjoy a blade of grass
as I do an entire forest..
I shout as loud as I can
“I love living, I love living”


Within the Sweet Affectionate Night

the constant awakening
between my shoulders
open once again

the yellow door
is a smile, spring-time
promise, entrance of light

the space is a cosmic palace
behind the eyes
on the tip of the tongue
and in the poetry of the fingers

the air is a garden
within my days

it opens once more

the sea of ideas
is a cathedral, spring-time
promise, entrance of love

the space is a rose palace
behind the eyes
between the lips
that kiss the sweet
affectionate night



the door is like an embryo,
an invitation towards places to spiritdance
an opening seeking to be sought
dawn is my doorway where enhanced is the enchantment
and bombarded are the minutes,
overloaded as a self-absorbed autistic child
whose stare holds secrets and desires for inner flights

towards childhood I ascend
towards the wisdom of innocence
and the rebirth of energy
clothed by the
burst of a

sunrise I cradle in my soul
it is home
upon opening my being,
free too is the house of my mind, mother of
imagination with walls fertile as wildflower gardens of light

the windows glow
illuminating the entrance whose roof is
a structure in time’s wrinkled passage,
doorways witness my ascension into

much like an excited, wide-eyed child I become who,
upon the smashing of a pi–ata, runs
towards the sweets and treats,
into the currents of celebration

in the stream I swim,
drunk with the minutes I
and make my


I love a Small Leaf like I Love the Entire Forest

yes, it is true, I love a small leaf of the tree
like I love the entire tree
because it makes me live completely
and that is how I love
the entire forest

morning is a kiss,
the day, a caress,
and the night, an embrace,
a very strong embrace …
and when I embrace you with passion,
I embrace creation

when I love a small leaf
when I embrace you
I love the forest
I embrace creation

today and always

today and always


Splinter of the Sun

the body is a door,
upon entering, one can taste the
strong light, so strong that if
the sun were made of
wood, the internal fire of
the body would be a splinter

the body is a door,
upon opening one can listen to
the rivers, the red rivers
of the natural electric currency
that upon beating, the
dream sea of being
can be reached

the door is a body,
upon closing one can see
the zones of skin, skin of
a multitude of colors like a diverse
garden that swallows young rain
to nourish its hopes

the door is body,
upon leaving, one can feel the
light weight of the landscape,
the immense landscape that is
illuminated with bodily light,
internal fire
splinter of the sun


Drunken with Twilight

hope is like an old window
its wooden soul
drinks the young red night

the stars spit
a celestial breath
and the rotted paint falls
with the rain
like tears
from the laughter drunken
with twilight



tonight I drink the drool
through your
kiss-colored eyes

tonight I taste your
hungry song,
entrancing …
I could listen to you
thousands of times,
over and over,
my lips
and limbs
are pulled apart into a crimson glow …

tonight I am spellbound,
indulging in the
melody of

© Gabriel Navar 1989 – 2013

24 thoughts on “Poems

  1. So nice to find another artist, who also paints with words, not only with colors!
    I like your poems. Especially the twiligt-one. Perhaps because it´s clear and short and precise.

    • Hello and thank you for viewing and reading my work… I appreciate it. Where are you in Germany? I show my work at least once a year in Wiesbaden at Galerie B. Haasner. I enjoyed your blog and certainly the Fashion Victims… Congratulations on your upcoming published novel… Gabriel Navar (in California) http://gabrielnavar.com

  2. Thank you for visiting back the Fashion Victims and your congratulations! Of course I´m exitited about being published…
    Wiedbaden is not that far away; I´m from around Karlsruhe. So, who knows, I might be a guest at your next exhibition in Germany!
    I also visited your homepage and liked what I read about your way of making art and your opinions.

    • Hi again and thanks for your correspondence. If you visit Wiesbaden, do visit Galerie B. Haasner…. I have several pieces there that are either in storage or hanging “unofficially” on the gallery walls…. Also, I want to say that my gallerist Brigitte Haasner participates annually in an art fair in Karlsruhe (I believe it takes place in March). Thank you once more for visiting my homepage. Have a great weekend and continue with your creativity! – Gabriel

  3. It’s not fair! Most people are lucky to get one gift, and here you are writing well crafted, layered, shifting prose…as well as the visual work? I’m a creative writing MFA, as well as the daughter of two writers, and I consider myself a serious snob when it comes to poetry, so I was a bit blown away by these: have you ever tried to publish anything? Last year I was editing Gulf Stream (a little literary mag) and I would have killed to get submissions of this quality! On another subject, I’ve been working on mostly nonfiction pieces lately, and I’ve done a few interviews/essays about my favorite non-famous visual artists and musicians. I don’t know what I intend to do with these pieces, but I feel like your work lends itself to exploring a plethora of juicy contemporary themes. Would you be up for answering a few short questions via email if you’re okay with a stranger writing about your work? No biggie if you’re busy, it’s not like I even have a plan about publishing these basically pop-themed essays yet, but I do think your work speaks to the same ideas that the other essays (and artists) are concerned with. There’s an amazing musician/sculptor in Georgia, Brian Smith, who’s work is like a 3d/audio compliment to what you’ve got up here. Okay, I should get back to real work…glad I stumbled on this blog

    • Hi and thank you again for your feedback…. so, I don’t consider myself a poet/writer (although I have been writing in a sort of “stream-of-consciousness/automatic-writing” image-making with words for many years), I do enjoy, respect and admire the craft… Some of my favorite writing “heroes” (and there are quite a few) include Edgar Allan Poe, Gabriel Garcia Marques, Camus, Kafka, The Cure’s Robert Smith, Siouxsie Sioux, Depeche Mode’s Martin Gore, Pablo Neruda, Maya Angelou, Morrissey, and countless others…. I have published a bit, in the context of choral music… I have been collaborating with a composer from the University of Southern Florida, Paul Basler on a few of my poems… basically, he has written songs (where my poems are the lyrics) that are sung by a choir (in english and in spanish)…each poem/song has a matching painting that I created many, many years ago… here are some links from my website: http://gabrielnavar.com/cantos.htm , http://gabrielnavar.com/embrace.htm , http://gabrielnavar.com/dias.htm I would be honored to answer questions and work with you, definitely… here is my e-mail: gabrielnavar@yahoo.com Take care and we’ll stay in contact, Gabriel

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