There is a way
I know that one day we will surely find it
Some days the path will curve
And we’ll know it’ll all be ok
Some days the path may dip
And we’ll know we’ll all be ok
Some days the path will look like one straight shot to our success
But will we take it?
Because the path to anything worthwhile
The path to anything mind blowing
The path to anything life altering is seldom one straight shot
There is a way
I know that one day we will surely find it
Not sure when,where,how
The path usually hides itself in plain sight
So easy to overlook
So easy to disregard
So easy to walk right on by
What’s that thing you hold in your hand?
That’s the key
The key to your dreams
You use it everyday and take it for granted
Because you never fully embraced it
You see it as a nuisance
When every nuance speaks the opposite
So wake up!
What’s that thing you hold in your hand?
That’s your key
To your heart
To your dreams
To your future
Use it well
Don’t abuse it
Don’t throw it away

Eva Santiago copyright 2015

Busy Mind #21

Previous Condition

I woke up shaking

Alone in my room

The gray sheet-a twisted rope

Breathing as if from running

Motionless-for the longest while

Laying on my back-spread-eagle

Staring up at the spackled ceiling

With ear in tune to other sounds from the house:

A teapot whistling

A smoker’s sputum  filled, hacking cough

A long drawn out yawn

My dog barking at the approaching mail man

Ma’s bacon sizzling on the cast iron griddle

In the shower, a girly voice singing Taylor Swift‘s “Mean”

The  soft hum of the 5 blade fan over my bed


I had been dreaming

I woke up trembling-not sure why

The dream’s detail’s eluded me

I was certain I was running

This was recurrent

A previous condition

For a prolonged time; no dreams would come

Then with out notice, they’d return

A whole flood of them- a torrent even

I’d put off going to bed ’til I’d succumb to my restlessness

R.E.M. would kick in-to suck me into the vortex

I’d fall asleep frightened-to awaken terrified

I’d calm myself by listening to Ludwig’s “Moonlight Sonata

Watching the smoke from a neglected pipe rise to my spackle ceiling.


I’d run away all of my life

At 16 I ran from my ma

Left her a note in chicken scratch

Told her not to worry

When I was 22, she died

Then the runaway returned

To her still, cold body waiting for me in a pine box

The old place-resembled a macabre masterpiece by Goya

The house stood naked, paint pealing-like a harlot in need of a manicure

An old rain coat stuffed in the front bay window

Bright yellow police taped blared at me:


That’s what my eyes read

My eyes red-from stinging tears

Once again,returned all of my fears

I stared at my reflection

In the old cracked oval gold leaf mirror

Left outside on the porch

Why did I run?

Where did I go?

Did nothing change?

I was still the same man…

That guy with a previous condition.

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013


Altered Book: Exploring Literature/Lynn Altenbernd

Busy Mind #18

Pretty Mouth and Green Eyes

Pretty mouth and green eyes

Why sit and stew?

The greatest living underdeveloped,

Undiscovered actress,

Novelist, psychoanalyst,


Genius-takes a course in TV appreciation

Men are all “terribly  attractive” to her

We’re just mismatched as hell

I’m too damn weak for her

She doesn’t respect me

She doesn’t even love me

I don’t love her anymore-

That’s the last analysis

I wrote her a poem

When we first met

Pretty mouth and green eyes…

She doesn’t have green eyes-they’re more like seashells

What’s the use?

I’m losing my mind

She has some nice traits

She’s a helluva nice girl

I’m too weak for her-I have to keep trying.

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013


Altered Book: Nine Stories/J.D. Salinger




Busy Mind#17


Empty glasses in her hands

Some old monogrammed ice pick

It’s icy out

She comes forward with more drinks

With each downed drink-she gets hard as nails

Pauses to drink-raises her glass to think

She slides off her couch

And onto her knees

Looking under the table for her keys

Front door suddenly flies open

Wake up! Wake up!



Ramona is awake!

“I was a nice girl,” she pleads,” Wasn’t I?”

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013



Altered Book: Nine Stories/J.D.Salinger

Busy Mind #16

Banana Fish

Sex is fun-or hell

A ringing phone


Why hasn’t he called her?

They want four hundred dollars

Miss Spiritual Tramp of 1948

Those German poems

Penned by the only poet of the century

Word of honor

In The ocean Room

His wife was horrible

A raving maniac

He needs the sun

Sea glass Beach is his retreat

“Not in my face Baby,” He said.

“Come a little closer,” She said.

He is Capricorn

She is Pisces

“Wanna catch a banana fish?” He asked.

He disrobes down to his swim trunks

The 2 walk down to the ocean

A perfect day for banana fish

Here comes a wave.

Don’t be a God damned sneak!

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013



Altered Book: Nine Stories/J.D.Salinger

Busy Mind #14


She checked her map again

Excitement coursed through her

Where is Shady Valley-the place of the shadow of death?

Maybe this wasn’t the right way

Discouragement fatigued her

She took one wrong turn

She was glimpsing a new world

The vision faded

She took a deep breath

She kicked at a rock

Fighting to keep her balance

Tomorrow would tell

If she lived or died

Her soul too strong

To die in her fragile flesh.

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013


Altered Book: Family Secrets/Cheryl Zach



Busy Mind #12


I’ll be ok

Holding on tightly

Why did God have to take him?

Please God-

Forgive us,pardon us,grant us atonement,

Goodwill and spare change

You can do this

The world fell away into  a pool of lamplight…


Eva Santiago copyright 2013

ImageAltered Book/ CERTAIN GIRLS/ Jennifer Weiner



Busy Mind #11

I came upon this great site to help stimulate my muse. I will share the poems I come up with. This is fun to do and gets my creative juices flowing. Happy hunting, poetry really IS everywhere, you just have to pay attention :)


Older Anguish

All these thoughts rushed together

To make make a thorough search

No storm ensued

They joined

They questioned

No doubt that she suffered

Perhaps they hoped

Perhaps they thought

She remembered that night

Pain renewed an older anguish

Sadness that years later she was still reluctant to talk about.

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013

Altered Book: ELENA by Judith Egan




Cut the bindings off  books found at a used book store. Find poems in the pages by the process of obliteration. Put pages in the mail and send them all around the world. Lather, rinse, repeat.