the modern graces with
tank tops and jeans not nakedlike in the past before
mass mechanization mass
digitization mass desensitisationbut still smiling
miss you
i miss your warm embrace
your delicate light blue
eyes in which i tried to
close but would not stay shut
your loud irascible voice
(the same one that cried
for help at the end) the way
in which youd relish in sunlight
shade the wind silence and
raven caws you told me onceto think of you
whenever I saw a raven and
that I had made you feel like
you had at least done one thing
right in life and how I had taught
you that love need not be a volcano
but could be a light pink cherry
blossom unfurlingI wish I could hold your hand
and get a text from you that simply
said, heybut I won’t, not now, not anymore, this
morning I was listening to a recording of
Bertrand Russell who was asked by Alan
Watts, do you think death is just the gradual
disintegration of the body and he said, why
surely, yes, I see no reason whatsoever that
the mind should persist once the body has died…I just hope
that there’s somewhere nice
for the soul to go
the little boy
addicted to life
to sunshine the moment
something sweet collides
with your mind
the wind is soft today
people work without stress
outside
a bird makes love to the open silence
and the string of instances
woven, slowly but relentlessly
has left the little boy behind
it has left him in a field of
daisies with vast abundant
bright white light
lost, his blue eyes
but we are happy for him
even though we miss him
in our shared moment
in time
just last week
we were picking
lemons in her
garden
now she is in the arms
of oblivion
billowing outwards
into a starry love
endlessly enveloping
A Poem
Can I read you a poem?
No.
Why not?
Poems are too deep for me.
What do you mean, too deep?
Well they make me think.
And thinking is difficult to you?
No, but I’d prefer not to do it.
So I can’t read my poem to you?
No. I’d prefer if you didn’t.
But I promise it won’t make you think.
What will it do then?
Make you feel.
January 2012
Cordoba
Smells of
Oleander
And orange
Blossoms
The flowers
Want to fill the
Sky
They want to share
Their sweet
Green nature
Like completely
And utterly and
With the enthusasiam
Of children running into
The sea
So free
To be
In the summer
dawn where
Archangels
Fall from rainbows
And rain rises
In quiet nights
The sky is a balcony
Of huge salty seas
The pain is
Clean and makes
Us feel like
We deserve the
Fleeting happiness
Of st sebastian
Caught in the
Crossfire of a bull’s
Veracity and a lilac’s
Tragedy
The space
Below stars are not
So different
From the lashes
Of llamas or
The tendrils
Of light that
Falls apart
Into rainbows
As night descends
Onto Earth in a
Great and silent
Pattering awe
It was like
Sunshine
Incarnate
A day of
Bridges over
Canals
Exotic courtyards
Hot humid
Serenity like
An open pasture
In the woods
Of elysium
Where fauns
Used to play
This place
Of venice
With its
Boats
And cathedrals
And state of overall
Delapidation
It’s epic history
Intermixed with
It’s tragic impending
Ending
A day of pigeon
Feather infinity
Of white light
On marble slabs
Absence of
Green no gesture
Of nature
Just the most perfect
Human dream
For a place
To blossom and breeze
The little gay faun
Said he was going back
To ancient Greece before
The invention
Of sin before
Suffering mitagated
Enjoyment like
The year Byron
Spent with shelley
On lake como
Without sunshine
Or mutual
Enjoyment of
Lapiz lazuli
( the glory of
Crowns made
Of olive
Leaves )
To have a sense
Of lightheartedness
To be silly
Oh lovely
Corazon
Tender little creation
Of mists
Dew
Bubbles
Ephemeral world
Of dusts
Of clouds
Of the amazing
Blissful
Sweet fleeting
Tender emotions
Of the heart
as long as you
are willing
you said to me
arranging soft
cushions like
flowers upon
the earth