The Exquisite Corpses at Vizcaya


The barge at Vizcaya Museum and Gardens. (Photo by JW Bailly CC BY 4.0)

The Exquisite Corpses at Vizcaya

Poems by

Joseph Abdin   •   Lennie Adaza   •   John William Bailly   •    Maria Victoria Biancardi   •   Richard Blanco   •   Dennys Block   Nathanael Cameron   •   Laura Carvajal   •   Kassandra Casanova    Sofia Castellon   •   Melissa Garcia   •   Albany Gonzalez   •   Reinaldo Gutierrez   •   Cecilra Herran   •   Trevor Holden   •   Amanda Johnston   •   Victoria Lopez-Trujillo   •   Sabrina Lima    Alejandro Lugo   •   Isabella Marie Garcia   •   Christina Melendez Carolina Menache   •   Isabella Montes   •   Benjamin Obando   •   Arina Polyanskaya   •   Melanie Ponce   •   Rachel Puentes    Nicholas Ramirez   •   Aaron Rodriguez-Pupo   •   Danielle Ruiz    Samantha Sahami   •   Dria Thomas   •   Stephanie Villavicencio   •   Jonah Wichterich

Prepared and Organized by Aaron Rodriguez-Pupo


To Vizcaya

Reflections in the Garden

The Bitch on the Barge

Dionysus and the Dancing Fauns

Echoes in an Empty House

To Vizcaya

Never-ending Journey
A new place with new ideas,
Away from familiarity
I could only see what’s across the sea
And could only think of what I left behind

Going Somewhere?
How can one psychologically settle into one place, when transience is ubiquitous?
So many places to travel and dream of
Through memories and forgotten stories,
They haunt me as I walk through
Although not certain, I will go. I will do.

So Many Things, So Little Time
Timelines engulfed by their passing,
Their passions led their journey
Out of wedlock—out of country
Disowned and thrown away
A taboo against the world, the apple of Eden.

The gem of South Florida.
Across the bay
Knives tear apart the curtains,
Trees tear apart the concrete.

Reflections in the Garden

The Reflection
Gazing across the Courtyard
I see a butterfly fluttering by
Landing in the garden
Like an alien spring—we felt only greenery
Crashing about us in a storm of leaves and flowers.

Weary Stone Paths
Cobblestone paths are like a never-ending story of our lives.
Their worn stones eroded by the ghosts of those crossed it once, twice,
Thrice leaving forward.
The bright memories of childhood
Suppressed by time.

No Nucleus
At a place full of hope
Where the brim of the ocean tips its hat
Empty inside
Barren Womb
But maybe, I think, it shouldn’t have happened anyway

Symmetry is Not a Focus
The trees sway as god inhaled and exhales
Circulating beauty through his lungs
Breathing the foliage to life.
Within my eyes, behold
The sight of a fair, deflowered maiden in the haven of green.

What Was
I lost my way in the gardens
But I do not mind.
Serious interruptions lack,
No words to describe
Empty feelings of sadness, just memories that reside.

The flowers painted the garden
The dazzling colors of the rainbow.
After rain has showered the garden,
Sunlight reflects from the mirrors of nature
As it shines on its beauty

Sunlit bay from a limestone barge
That floats impossibly
Woven through shallow ripples
Surrounded by nature, green as to pure
The Hell-hole.

The Bitch on the Barge

Overlooking the Ocean
I put your figure on a barge
but noticed something saucy about your breasts.
The treasure of beauty disagrees with the sinfulness of vulgarity.
Beautiful women do not have to hide,
Beauty is not about what is outside but what lies within.

Make Those Breasts Smaller
Is it really necessary, to have them that large?
Exposing volume to the world—
Our desire overruled our morals
like too much sugar in café con leche.
Soaked to the bite.

I’m insecure.
Don’t know what for.
Whatever they’re for, I don’t want them on my barge.
What is the purpose, to glorify a whore?
She changed her ways, never looking back

Saucy Bitch
Don’t call me that
You have no right to speak
You lost that when you chose to leave
Thinking it wouldn’t change anything
But a door has been opened

Frail? Fatale.
Strong. Alive.
A plethora of emotion etched on their faces, wisdom beyond their age.
Their fairness and compassion…one like no other.
Women scattered throughout Vizcaya.

Dionysus and the Dancing Fauns

How can so many different things come together so well?
Life is full of impossibilities.
It’s impossible to lace dead material
Woven to branch alike
Together we can conquer all

God of Things
Furrowed brows overlook the green horizon of Vizcaya.
Indulged in rich wine and savory tastes,
I savor the gifts of this hour
Indulging all of my senses
And a wave of pleasure finally coursing through me

Dancing Faun
Pinky toes
Always smell
The flowers begin to bloom,
Children burst in laughter as they speed through the garden
Though they nothing of what was, only what is.

Evil’s Within
A baby born at a point in time
Unaware of her destiny
Unaware of the people with her
Unaware of how different she is from them
She gallops away into the sunset

Shrubs Look like Pubes
Trimming the hedges of her valley
She seeks to find what was lost
Passion and calculation will be of the utmost importance.
But we are slaves to the garden, so who is really in control?
The control of nature is what life is really about.

An empty pocket
But filled with doubt
The way velvet doesn’t touch its own beauty
Its opulence permeating the air
The feel of its grandeur alive forever.

Momentous Absurdity
I paint you in this curved dream
Every curve to detail
Wealth is the false illusion of happiness
Always wanting more
The softness of skin, a sin of the flesh, will never be mine.

Gold Plates
Serving others without reason,
Wanting everything, asking for nothing.
Don’t ask, don’t tell.
But then again, what is owed to this person?
The servant owns the land they work. The Owner owns an idea.

Echoes in an Empty House

The Secret Passage
Each room a different dimension
Fabricated in silk
To show off to the world
My greatest journey
Climbing mountains, swimming in ravines, and chasing sunsets.

Well Fuck
As I hold my cold champagne
Thoughts of my past present and future flood my mind—
Merriment, luxuries, and laughter are all but a memory.
Fleeting interactions that hold no significance
A mode to escape from everyday monotony.

Trial by Fire
Traversing the great seas, in search of a new land
With so much abundance to be found, what will we find?
Is it desperation of some kind?
Mistaken for a craving,
The yearn to fucking ruin everything that’s not yours.

His hands have crafted a mismatched portrait.
Hands that shake from a loss of control—
Eyes darting back and forth,
Sweat rolling down our necks, cold and slimy, as we stand in awe and fear.
We must look past the surface and look deep inside one’s heart.

Caravels Flying Through the Sitting Room
I want this in my music room.
I don’t care that it is an antiquated piece of history that doesn’t belong.
It is beautiful…it speaks to me,
a velvet-voiced oracle within the canvas
says so much and nothing at all.

Razed from the Ashes
But I am not the phoenix
Known as the melting pot of the world
I can’t help but feel the heat
Of other’s anger dying throughout the years
Until no voice is heard and the fire has ceased

Stained Glass
A quilt of colors
Stitched and intertwined
Like a Frankenstein creation,
Like a recipe that was created by God—
A recipe that will remain inextricable for all of time.

A Look Out
As I look out at the land I developed
Its beauty overwhelms me
Yet underwhelms
Deep in my mind I wish there was more
The beauty inside reflects art, reflects heart