*
I delight in getting lost
in the space within me
.
when I am reminded
of it by my patient soul
.

.
*
I delight in getting lost
in the space within me
.
when I am reminded
of it by my patient soul
.
.
*
I walk around my
small land where trees
abound and I have
a restlessness this year
I never had as if
my garden and I have lost
communication
.
but I attend the land a lot
.
I sit waiting as at
the bed of a sick child to
whom nobody hands
water exhausted
I tighten my hands one
with the other in
silent pain I look down
.
to the aging skin
to the black rim under
my nails its dirt
sticking to me my garden’s
way to hold onto me
.
.
*
it takes care
to inquire of oneself
going down
inside in total silence
one step at
a time on imaginary
staircases
.
*
rustling the rusted
leaves run the ground
the rain of the dead
becomes the soft sound
of the lower wind
rearranging the streets
of an early autumn
.
*
I notice the silence
.
not anymore the chirping
or the chatter of the wind
.
I notice the hummingbird
trying stillness by furious
.
flapping I stop engaging
myself I let go of my eyes
.
frantic grasping of letters
on a page putting the book
.
down where it was letting
my head as beheaded
.
falling too
.
.
Poem from the bilingual book California Notebook available for you also online.
*
it is a revelation
not one cicada
sounds the same
a butterfly sitting
by me admiring
something I lose
myself on such lightness
I use to tell children
to stop and to listen to
the songs of
butterflies as
they nodded back
This poem, written in 2014, is from the collection California Notebooks 01, click on the title if interested in your own copy.
*
when poetry comes
as a soft gliding
over my feelings
searching to appease
me a gentle caress
.
.
*
sharp the tree
branches
against the winter
sky black
a naked dance in
the brisk air
.
.
*
they the shards of ice
laying on water
don’t move nor dance
they lay still there
as the ducks try a piroette
other then gliding
.
.
*
January mornings
wake up slowly
.
in spite of long stretches
yawns and chilly air
.
everything deep in sleep
so is everyone
.
like a colorless dream
dipped in silence
.
.
*
it’s an afterward
moving
this of giving poetry
a way
to talk about the beauty
lingering
unseen
sensitivity shining
bright
in our darker days
when we
think there’s little
to be seen
.
.
Poem from the second volume of the book California Notebooks 02. If you wish to gift yourself, or someone else, a discounted copy click here. I would love to find a review from you. Best Wishes!
.
*
forever is to renew
what I already have
every day
.
.
.
*
the volume of the sky
above me and the land
stretching from my feet
.
.
.
.
Coming Soon!
.
*
it seems some days
that the sun moves
at a faster speed
it raises for a kiss
as I get a cup of coffee
and let the cat out
I see them playing
together in the shiny
grass birds may
join too as I give
shape to new poetry
typing away
suddenly it taps
on the backyard for
a sad goodbye
as I sit speechless
.
.
.
.
*
showering
under the full moon
each drop a miniature
globe satellite revolving
my breath slowing
with each step
in the garden
eyelids lowering
under the rays
reflecting
.
.
.
.
.