a journal with poems written on the fly without much ado |
Venus Night sky…Venus on the East like desire, standing put and coming back again night after night, altering her position just a bit, as if repelling risk. Its light, the brightest. Yet, in the neighboring houses, one foolish person coils in smoke; another hides in his Scotch, not understanding the eyes of the night sky, watching us, Venus threading her way with the luster of hope. On Holidays Some of us do weep on holidays, some as they search some as they wait for those who’ll never come. For the lonely and the lost celebration is pain with a savage taste. Yet, memories strike like lightning, melting iron fences, and we hold hands, smiling through tears. Reflection The colors you spot in front of you reflect your colors, and the farther you can see, the wiser you are. The sum of your years may lead you to the end but life will expand as large as you have loved. Behind You Where the sidewalks curve at each corner, tenements like giants, their windows blinded by dark curtains, will fill you with fear drop by drop. You’ll walk fast without turning to look back toward the place where pitch black begins as if you’ll catch me there. The sound of your footsteps will amplify in the night adding mystery to your mystery and you’ll search for me without grasping that I’ll always walk behind you. Learning To see the arc of the backyard, I climb a tree, feeling like Tarzan. The ants are tigers; a caterpillar turns into a caiman. And I swing, holding on to a branch four feet above the ground, with a savage cry to tumble in a heap, to end up bawling, with scraped knees. Sixty years later, not much has changed; I still fall from high and low, except my wild self knows how to rise again. |