*
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”.
.
*
non mi sono mai
seduta in riva al fiume
a meditare la vita
scorreva veloce dentro
e la domenica fu
meraviglia dopo meraviglia
una festa a sorpresa
.
.
.
.
*
a petal can lead
to an expanse of flowers
of poetry and lightness
surprisingly colored
to an internal suburban world
projecting me with telescopic
vision toward the earth I who
believes to be above it
within not yet under
I who believe and know no more
I who believes evermore that
I’m and nothing else matters
who loves to live an atom
at a time my own explosion
.
.
.
This poem appears in the first volume of the California Notebooks.
.
*
I’m split in two
by the desire to
sit and meditate
and travel madly
to new landscapes
travel nonetheless
new either way
yet the excitement
of moving on the territory
yet the serenity
of exploring the nearby
.
.
.
This poem is part of the collection California Notebooks 02
.
*
the life of a poet
is that of cultivating
yourself so that poetry
may choose to visit you
.
.
.
This poem is part of the new volume “California Notebooks 03” soon to be published.
.
*
we all walk
bundled up on
winter days
but the dogs
jump for joy
the old man
will not sit by
his fire he takes
himself out
slowly stretching
his steps next
to the lines
of poplars
he will walk to
the end not
a thought
of surrender
.
.
.
*
and then
there was that
truck fading away
into the curve after
having committed a
crime I witnessed
I knew I could be
of help if I memorized
the plate but I could
remember only three
numbers and its
shape – none
when I woke up
.
.
.
*
cultivate love
not for one person
alone distinguish
like from love
choose to love
you will grow the
perfect climate
to rise in beauty
in good company
.
.
–
*
if I could keep my bones
warm and dry my heart
delicately swelling inside
as my eyes roam the air
grabbing not sure how
the poetic words that
make my life worth
living resounding
as a gentle
chime
.
.
.
*
I climbed
the curve of joy
this morning
that which is
not caused
by man but by
resilient nature
beauty as a will
written into my heart
that not only
when I die shall
be respected
.
.
.
.
*
I pick up words
as small daisies
on a spring field
careful to hold them
in small bunches
never as beautiful
as when first spotted
a memory of wonder
blushing as they close
around their meaning
covering the heart
shy of a truth near
enough for our dull spirit
to remember a note
or two
.
.
.
.
This poem is in the first volume of the “California Notebooks”. If you wish to get your own copy click here
.
