*
in between loving cats
and feeding elders
roaming paths
it was the caressing
with my eyes of the olive
trees barks twisted by
the winds and the lack
of water – is that the look
my soul has – she had no
idea life was business
to attend same the church
and the cats and the elderly
.
.
This poem is part of the collection Not Rosaries Nor Missals.
–
*
they panic no one
around the streets
.
no one in their cars
no noise nor pollution
.
they keep the tv loud
letting anger lash out
.
or let despair cover
their trapped bodies
.
they weep the chance
they resist they curse
.
.
.
*
tonight
the moon is full
emptied from a thousand
engagements I lay in hot
water maybe illuminated
from the sky the silence
repose approaching
hidden from light
an upside down world
a somersault and a wriggle to
find myself wondering star under
inside some lights I turn off
before the thoughts – then the eyes
slightly vibrating
weightless in the space
I found within
*
it is right by the side
of the road the Cathedral
In The Pines Cemetery
as if you could just roll
off the side of the road
dead and ready to lay
where there are no fences
but some more noise to
endure or is it a reminder
when the sun hides
at sunset behind red
blood colored clouds
.
*
time leaving
traces everywhere
victims never
to be avenged
time cannot
be hold it can
be classified
never arrested
and if doing some
serious thinking
we last but the
length of a breath
time shows itself
and swiftly go
.
This poem is part of the bilingual poetry collection California Notebooks 01 on sale on Amazon.
.
*
I press hard
most of the times
my whole
life to go beyond
.
to detach myself
from disappointment
transcending
into the essence
.
.
.
*
I have worn shoes
covered with trails
dust sticking loud
louder than my long
path of silence I
have asked to see
the way I could tread
barefoot as in a dream
where roads aren’t
hard where people
say without speaking
love is reverence
.
.
.
..
.
*
let’s sow kindness
even if we no more
like people let’s
.
.
.
*
to know the weight
of my heart through
my eyes you can see
.
how it makes my life
difficult the flight over
troubled landscapes
.
I’ve that anchor inside
that sinks me like a spade
deep into the human
.
.
.
*
dry leaves scattered
on the summer tall grass
unable to move
.
dead to
themselves ready
to mulch
.
withal giving
.
.
.
.
*
I was once
part of my dad
and also part of
my mother
later but not so
literally I was part
of someone else’s
further I will be part
of the trees’ roots
contributing to the
flowers’ beauty
part of water
somewhere in
the sky all along
I was part of god
but here you
stiffen and say
I cannot
prove it
.
.
.
This poem is on page 55 of the published bilingual collection California Notebooks 02.
.
.
*
how do we become
is there a law
past human knowledge
how to be
candid and transparent
opalescent
almost gone while here
.
.
.
*
peaceful the dust
lingers on my shelves
I touch books thrown
back in time where
is all that mind
knowledge gone
the people that
walked with me
transmuted no
stone left unturned
no thing left the same
I let dust be as
my eyes scan spines
bleached by the
sunlight come
god pick me up
.
.
.
.
*
hearing steps
of life carried out
gasping one day
they will be no more
times rolls away
my finger fail to
halt it to stillness
.
.
..
Happy New Year! Happy we are still able to count them.
.
*
after decades spent
in the seriousness of being
pondering judging achieving
fastening my seat belt
to the land of lightness
where islands do float
as all my thoughts
in enchanted bliss
here silently I’m
.
.
.
This poem appears in the first volume of the “California Notebooks”.
.
