Pico de Orizaba

Pico de Orizaba
Taken from Huatusco, Veracruz, the closest town to Margarita's family's ranch.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Brooklyn Poem #1

I write poems as I walk.
I speak with you on the streets of Brooklyn.
The wind carries me; the sun guides me.
The moon is my companion in the night
Birds inform me of the correct direction
I don't always listen
Johanna is the light, as am I.
We walk together in life and death, a continuum.
We must not understand the most important things.
Wonderful things occur when least expected.
I took your test;
Of the never ending light; all-encompassing darkness
And scored low.
You said, "expect nothing."
I said "OK" and changed like barometric pressure before a hurricane
And expected everything.
I fell in-love as I should have upon discovering truth and beauty.

But I grasped you like a cloud and you vanished.
Should I search for you in the granuals of sand upon the beach
Or should I await your return
As one awaits a shooting star in the night?
All directions of anticipation and expectation miss the point.
The most wonderful things occur when least expected.
I live life with the changing of the seasons
With the cycles of the moon
With the blooming of wild flowers in fields of long grass and cypress trees.
I move with the deer and the bats at dusk.
I float in the air with Autumn's leaves and milkweed.
People come and go
Thunderstorms, rainshowers, rainbows, clouds
Late May
Indian Summers
You have come
Will you go?
I look at the horizon where once was a sun setting
Clouds lavender
And I wonder
Where is that smile I saw in your eyes?
That moment I let slip away
Passing towards eternity
A mind active becomes shy
My lips
Your lips
So close
Yet the distance between us increases precipitously every second
I procrastinate
Afraid of mistakes
False conclusions and assumptions
And you are not a figment of my imagination
But you can disappear like water vapor in the Stratosphere
And I am the wind that passed through my hair on East Houston
And I am a leaf that floats on that wind
And you... are so sparce with words
The sun is obscured by clouds
Yet we have entered a moment of truth in Autumn
Peacefulness, tranquility and leaves changing color
A quilt upon the ground
November and no fears of death
or anxiety about entropy
Just movements forward
Every day
one day closer to Spring
I have come
Will I go?
Does it matter?
I don't know
I looked upon the horizon
The sun rises and sets simultaneously
I see my reflection of the moon upon the water
I see memories of you in the waves
If I look closely enough I see your eyes in the stars
I read the language communicated by wind passing through trees
I read the movement of limbs, branches, leaves
Yet I cannot control the wind
Or predict changes in direction or velocity
And I must not worry
For I know the wind will return
Warming me
Cooling me
Chilling me
Soothing me
Becoming a gentle breeze
Rocking me to sleep
Whispering incantations in my ear
Reminding me
Everything afar, near
Exists as elusive objects;
Tangible aparitions
A paradox within life and creation
The endless flow of rivers to the sea
tears cleansing eyes
Concrete material world
Bound inextricable to the ephemeral, spiritual
By sunlight, wind, clouds,
Motion, emotion, devotion, faith
We held hands briefly
Signifying both the beginning and the end of a moment
You have come
Will I go?
Or are we bound inextricably
Regardless of perceptions?
People come and go
Thunderstorms passing during humid summer eves
Rain drops heavy and cool
Each drop distinct against my skin
Pressing my shirt against shoulders, back, and chest
Shivering drenched
You have come
Will you go?
I look towards the clouds on the horizon
Where once was a sun setting
And all I can say is
"I don't know"
"I don't know"
I no longer question these things. It's just what happens.
Friendships vanish suddenly
Love and passion fades
People come and go
And I can't ask why
For such a concern warrants the greater question,
"What about I?
As the man whom senses you as the person
And says suddenly
Please don't ask me "why?"
It's something like that time I caught your gaze
And then you caught mine and looked away
Leaving me with steam rising from a heated sidewalk in July
After a late day's rain
Never to look my direction again
I should have demanded an explanation?
But if our fingers slipped into knots
More than once entwined unplanned
And more than twice my lips caressed yours
And your lips caressed mine
Too tongue tied for words
The palpitation of our hearts and limbs
Suggesting a reality greater than fantasy
And a fantasy lived if momentary
now and now and now and then and later
Conversation unspoken and flowing
In streams of blood pulsing from our hearts through veins
Flushing capillaries in our cheeks
Our eyes burning and tears
As we risk vulnerability
Shedding the layers of steel netting protecting our souls
From a loss of a love felt unseen
Not understood
Never known
Graspable as mercury or warm Jell-O
Could we just walk away?
The Raindrops
Walking though the park
I thought of Amherst woods
Fall foliage
Dimming of the light
A blanket upon the ground
Damp, multiples of colors
A quilt knit by a friend
For lovers appreciative of time spent
Winter, hibernation
Warm breath
And a flashlight under covers
Like a tent in the Berkshires
A cocoon
Preparation of Spring births
November through March
Autumn and Winter nights
Laying amongst the twigs, leaves
Caps of acorns discarded by squirrels
Preparing for a rest long awaited
Illusions of death
Everything returning home
Seeds germanating
In Earth wombs
Never truly alone
I listen to music softly sung
In drops of rain penetrating the ground
A lulliby

1 comment:

Ross said...

Hi. I'm Ross, the author of the poems, the artist behind the paintings and drawings, the man sharing his crazy and difficult experience with you. If you appreciate what you read and see on my blog, and the ideas; if you are enjoying the writings and the poems, the artwork, please say hi or something. Don't be afraid to be alive and real.