*
perhaps I live for ever
beyond the world’s borders
without realizing
those limits useless talks
and mean chit-chats
laid out as spider webs
perhaps I fly protected
in the blinding light
and at night I cry
cause I did not grasp it
.
.
.
January 27 was International Holocaust Memorial Day , this poems is my contribution to honor the victims.
.
*
poetry fleets
liquid to the corners
of the eyes laying down
remembrance unable to find
words to wrap up
these feelings
.
.
.
.
*
left with questions
raising as people complain
not understanding
hiking the silent way alone
making answers room
.
.
.
Yesterday it was my birthday, I choose this poetic meditation for today because growing is a beautiful, truly beautiful, journey – even when we don’t understand life.
.
*
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.
.
*
I write hesitantly
as if scared to feel
too much as if afraid
to make noise
.
to intimidate
the graciousness
of this whisper past
my ears past my mind
.
I got there somehow
once more afraid
to be cast away
when I was it
.
.
.
.
*
it comes up
as water gushing
out of a broken pipe
the flood of tears
when I sit face
to face poetry
meeting me
.
.
.
.
*
it has been weeks
since we had a good
time and talked one
to another poetry
and I weeks of dry
isolation weeks
of mundane problems
sinking down with
all the other people
.
.
.
.
*
I leave the dust
to rest on my books
I remove the dust
from my shoes have
you wondered
.
transforming desert
the vast space
filled with the wind
voice to instruct
my questioning soul
.
.
.
.
*
things cluttered
I move them around
just a bit as to call them
to make a list of prisoners
.
to make them feel less
lonely as my mind
speaks to them
their language
.
.
.
*
the forgotten taste
of bitterness hitting
my tongue again
something
I wasn’t eager
to experience once
again you lash out
anger empowering
you robbing us
of our beauty
.
.
.
*
those are places
geographical ones
pins on paper
tips of pens
thoughts of now
lived before
in a dream
we walked
not crossing
eyes shut
if we look the
weft increases
knowledge of
different places
.
.
This poem is part of the collection California Notebooks 02
.
.
*
we are here
softly abandoned
glaring at the shadow of
an airplane on the ground
one of those luminous day
where every detail is out
for count and thanksgiving
following a time dark as
the night upon which we
both struggled with
eyes wide open to
no avail in fear
.
.
.
This poem appears in the first volume of the “California Notebooks”.
.
4.
at times when I plant
basil such a delicate plant
I’ve to be careful to synchronize
my breath while I gently press
the dirt around as when
words sprout on paper
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
.
5.
on mornings I walk
into the sun rising with each step
I type in words – they crowd around me
at dawn very few people are
around silence is bubbling
.
.
..
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
.
.
.
.
7.
some people sit and read
the program but do not pay
attention to the music or the tempo
they do not single out instruments
they need punctuation in poetry
prose in the shape of a column
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
