*
I am a drawing compass
one feet pointed the soft
one bent on a dance to
go from here to there to
close the circles to jump
out to run free today
.

*
I am a drawing compass
one feet pointed the soft
one bent on a dance to
go from here to there to
close the circles to jump
out to run free today
.
*
the rainstorm last night
came
and left us exhausted
.
the morning rose
stretching
brighter than ever
.
every greenery
greener
thriving to new
.
.
*
the painting paints itself
the poem hulls out a story
the clay molds its shape
.
the body I live in softly
falls into a longer dream
on a cloth weaved to be
.
*
give me only one thing
the strength to open
my sails every morning
oh god that you may
lead me through oceans
.
*
I hang each thought
that comes to me
on one line
letters as clothes
pins clicking
.
*
they don’t tire me
the dead
as the living do
.
*
it takes one silence
to enter another
silence to draw words
out of poetry
in that quite spot in us
.
.
*
life is handed
to us in its mystery
.
it looks as if
it is missing instructions
or punctuation
when I try it over and over
I may get it
.
the poetry I write
is what is given to me
.
*
fear lives in us
the more we push it
out the more
it sinks its roots in the dark
.
to be able
to recognize it when
we look from its eyes
terrified
.
at life well aware
we don’t understand
what influences us is what
halts my words now
.
*
the garden repeats
itself with no shame
day after day
year after year
it is the ritual of life
honest repetitions
with no aim to gain
simply to be
I learn each day
from these visits
each step I take
wisdom sheds
entering me
imperceptible
it takes a needy
heart to see
this incredible
life experience
.
*
the garden repeats
itself with no shame
day after day
year after year
it is the ritual of life
honest repetitions
with no aim to gain
simply to be
I learn each day
from these visits
each step I take
wisdom sheds
entering me
imperceptible
it takes a needy
heart to see
this incredible
life experience
.
*
stand always
at the beginning of things
.
keep that attitude
as your compass in life
.
you are never at the
end it will never be
.
the end of the world
but always for us
.
the beginning
of anything new
.
.
This poem is in the first volume of “California Notebooks”.
To get your own copy click here
.
1.
I had to get A/C
this summer
I had no choice
.
not the one that refreshes you
the one that burns inside
called chemotherapy
.
red not the least
that’s how they call it
abroad Red Devil
.
2.
after a springtime
quite upsetting
first the diagnosis
.
then the tests results
always the opposite
of what I was hoping for
.
the metastasis going
thank goodness mine was a slow one
the hospitalization the surgery
.
3.
came recovery from surgery
infinite the time of the drainages and edemas
and the infection at the expander inserted
.
we made it just in time
right by the wee day to get to
the medical therapy necessary
.
considered the difficult nature
of the cells mutated in the darkness
of my perfect body as I saw it
.
4.
this A/C is hell
inside of you the portable one
it goes in up your veins all around
.
inside your body
attaching every single cells
you can feel it scorching them
.
you try to go on with your day
– I will rest I will get over this –
but you spend your time
.
listening to set off alarms
to observe what is going on
now in the central part
.
of your poor body
a planet on fire every thing burning
a country invaded
.
busy to defend itself
to free itself confused holds in and release
you sail – filled up with nausea
.
every thing moves
but not you – you have to be still
in the dark in the shadow
.
nowhere to be found it’s the torrid summer
everyone is on holiday at the sea or where is fresh
and you child of the sun – to live –
.
you got your A/C and you stayed home
with nausea but not from a boat
hot flashes but not from the beach
.
transformed in the fugitive of light and heat
as they seem to be the unnecessary flames
that lights the gas in my veins
.
5.
I go out after sunset a bit
if I manage four steps and a bit of a chat
otherwise I observe I lay and lose
.
the good cells and the disobeying ones
the digestive and intestinal
order I have always had so far
.
I observe perplexed this war
my body lives amplified
I though surgery was the worse part
.
almost as observing earth
from far away consuming itself in conflicts
on my top I become the moon
.
on my night pillow I don’t spread any more
the constellations of the serene nights
of my long white hair scattered
.
now I find the stubs of my very short hair
what is left until I will be shiny on top with a new shape
I will have to get used to that too
.
at the end of this complete makeover
that would not leave anything unturned
what light will ever shine out of me
.
*
I have learned
about richness
.
breath and time
.
I have been made
rich by this knowledge
.
*
the new territory
I found myself on
.
this not knowing
all I could know
.
waiting long days
molding thoughts
.
making the dark
ones captive
.
feeling your body
changing under
your finger tips
.