Tuesday, March 28, 2023

Garden Notes

White abelia grandiflora,

abies alba,

or bloody sparaxis tricolor,

having escaped cultivation, 

lie under and next to

grand houses

while

there,

where

the weeds

seed among

neglected apartments,

I find

erodium moschatum

called musk stork's bill,

or whitestem filaree, 

a flower colored stickly purple.


Higher,

growing through rock, walled and chinked,

trails plectanthus verticullatus,

a lamium, an ivy,

rarely listened to.

 

It's easier for me, 

for the trees and bushes,

to see

exotic datura, 

the pendulant nightshade, 

dragging down the moon,

driving men and horses mad.

Glad that I prefer the ficus,

who like us sane, 

and the plain stenotaphrum,

an ordinary grass 

now valued for beauty and tolerance.


  



 swift in the air

where yesterday

a kestrel

Thursday, March 23, 2023

  

Gregory the Great (ca. 540–604) spoke about compunctio, the holy
pain[,] the grief somebody feels when faced with that which is most
beautiful....The bittersweet experience stems from human
homelessness in an imperfect world, human consciousness of, and at
the same time, a desire for, perfection. This inner spiritual void
becomes painfully real when faced with beauty. There, between the
lost and the desired, the holy tears are formed.

OWE WIKSTRÖM, PROFESSOR IN PSYCHOLOGY OF
RELIGION AT THE UNIVERSITY OF UPPSALA from Bittersweet by Susan Cain

Thursday, March 16, 2023

sick but sun

understanding

essays

by Christensen

or listening

to friends

talk about a trip


Monday, March 13, 2023

Life Poem 6

Uma mulher idosa
como eu
ainda protege o seu coração, os seus pés
ou o que quer que seja
tem nele o fogo
da existência.
Da minha boca
queimando os meus dentes
vem um calor intenso
que cheira a limões,
é doce,
contém alegria e tristeza.
Deixem-me arder!
Ela ainda luta
pela justiça,
canções, imagens,
para proteger as pedras debaixo dos seus pés flamejantes.
Anseio por arder durante muito tempo.
Desliguem as mangueiras de água!
Deixem-na queimar o pó
como ela desejar, à medida que caminha,
com os seus próprios dois pés,
ao seu próprio ritmo,
para o rio mais distante deste país.

An old woman
like me
still protects her heart, her feet
or whatever
has in it the fire
of existence.
From my mouth
scorching my teeth
comes an intense heat
that smells like lemons,
is sweet,
contains joy and sadness.
Let me burn!
I still fight
for justice,
songs, images,
to protect the stones under my flaming feet.
I long to burn for a long time.
Turn off the water hoses!
Let me burn the dust
as I wish, as I walk,
on my own two feet,
at my own pace,
to the farthest river in this country.







Life Poem 5

I know I have no time to waste

the blue sky

the river below

know

this is not endless

life has limits

and cannot hold you together

eventually

you slop out at the edges

overflow

go back into or out

disappear

so

smell it

spoon it up

the spring

this thing

that soon

by its nature

escapes

from you.


Life poem 4

 1

Os chocalhos são palavras que as corujas apanham e entregam.

Dormi durante todo o incidente do guizo porque

Sou fiel ao meu amor pela tranquilidade.

2

O mundo não tem seguro contra
os fogos de mudança à nossa espera para nos

Dentro das nossas almas 

é impossível proibi-los ou aceitá-los.

3

Um pinheiro é um telescópio

que vê o velho cão doente

ainda parte do amor de uma jovem rapariga.

Quando morre mais tarde, esta noite,

acenderá uma fogueira

no seu coração

4

Eu queria dormir durante a morte do cão, mas não consegui. 

Ouvi a rapariga uivar à lua.


Quando olhei para o chão, ela tinha acendido uma fogueira, 

uma pira funerária, 

e colocado o cão em cima.

O pinheiro já tinha visto o suficiente, 

dirigiu o seu olhar para outro lado.

5

A coruja veio de manhã,

com os seus guizos,

deixando cair palavras como gotas de chuva sobre as cinzas, 

palavras como sementes 

para crescer entre as cinzas.


 

 

 

Rattles are words that owls pick up and deliver.

I slept through the whole rattle incident because

I am faithful to my love of tranquility.

 2

The world is not insured against the fires of change

waiting to burn us.

Inside our souls

it is impossible to prohibit them or accept them.

3

A pine is a telescope

that sees the old sick dog

still a part of a young girl's love.

When it dies later tonight,

it will light a fire

in her heart.

I wanted to sleep through the death of the dog, 

but I couldn't. 

I heard the girl howling at the moon.


When I looked at the ground, she had lit a fire, 

a funeral pyre, 

and placed the dog on top.



The pine tree had seen enough, 

directed its gaze elsewhere.

5

The owl came in the morning, 

with its rattles, 

dropping words like raindrops on the ashes, 

words like seeds 

to grow among the ashes.





 

 



Saturday, March 11, 2023

life poem two

Vinca 

azul

azalea

luz

 

I chose sorrel

and combs

the rooster's crow

untangles them

 

white, white

bergamot

got chamomile

between the toes

 

vinca

azul

azalea

luz

 

 

 



life poem three

se antes

o morto

antes de

os mortos

viveu entre nós

 

aqui

 

o limiar

a janela

foi uma única gota

de luminosidade

sem água

 

viver sem chuva

a barca

para  as galinhas

a bicicleta para

as pombas

 

e tu, mais uma vez

sob um sol

que é realmente 

a lua 


Eu poderia passar
 
a minha vida

o resto desta vida

a correr atrás
 
um sonho
 
 
mas depois
Eu não conheceria as aves
ou a chuva
que se instala
no meu telhado

Se eu ficar acordado
Posso apenas ver algo
algo agora pouco claro
mas a precisar de tempo
para se revelar
 
_______________________________________________________
 
if before

the dead

before

the dead

lived among us


 here

 
the threshold
the window
was a single drop
of brightness
without water

 

to live without rain
the boat
for the chickens
the bicycle 
for the doves

 

and you, once again,
under a sun
that is really 
the moon


I could spend
my life
the rest of this life
chasing after
a dream
 
 
but then
I wouldn't know the birds
or the rain
that settles
on my roof

If I stay awake
I can just see something
something now unclear
but needing time
to reveal itself
 
 

 




 
 

 

 

 

Sunday, March 5, 2023

the cut on the lip

the mouse in bed

the corn in the crib

coffee instead

 

the wolf at the door

the last cat in

teachers need more

than a pencil and PIN


during this war

who grows fat

It's not the mouse, 

the wolf, or the cat

 

the pencil breaks

we teach in the streets

schools aren't safe

I ask what it takes

 

a cut on the lip

won't silence truth

the refugee ship

brings with it a group


that saw 

mice starve

and teachers die

that colors what's hidden

gives faces to lies

 

 

 

 

 


Friday, March 3, 2023

 On the bus, three women wear masks. Another woman points and says:

 

Porque é que vocês três estão a usar máscaras?
Não sabem que são  
os turistas                                                                                                                                                    que nos transmitem a doença?
Turistas e estranhos!


Ah, mulher!


Dá um passeio!

Deixe passar a turista com a máscara,  
deixe passar a turista que traz a doença, e saias do autocarro!

_______________________________________________________

Why are you three wearing masks? 

Don't you know that it is the tourists 
who transmit the disease to us?
Tourists and strangers!

Ah, woman!


Take a walk!

Let the tourist with the mask pass, 
let the tourist who brings the disease pass, and get off the bus! 


Thursday, March 2, 2023

I will soon get up

out of bed,

well rested.


It is early


and I need to travel between two worlds, maybe three, today.