A day

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Quietly your self worth diminishes

like salt on a pavement

your voice loses its tone, forgotten.

Who will remember you?

A shadow in a system.

You cry. New tide comes,

covers the muddy river bank.

The white egret returns.

You survive another day.

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Note: Last week Mrs. Abstract and I and our two friends toured Andy Warhol’s art Exhibit at MOMA in San Francisco, California. Very interesting.

Books I’m currently reading: Moby Dick by Melville and Paris, 7 A.M. by Liza Wieland, a novel about a young Elizabeth Bishop.

 

Kindness

Sometimes we walk in a painted drama

Or a recited poetry

Not hurried or loud

Like a leaf falling on a stream

There are things we don’t understand like shuffling papers

Or how we fold an umbrella after the rain

And we smile

We continue our walk doing crossword puzzles inside our heads

That’s how we miss dogs sleeping under the tree

One of us steps on his tail.

Where can light hide if it wants to hide?

Changing our names is like moving away, hiding or flirting.

Our eyes catch the light

Showering over a leaf

Like a prayer

Light has no tail or face

But a field, of attractions

A woman rises at dawn

An undulating line with three points

above and before the line’s endpoint.

Abstract inside reality

Reality arising from the abstract

Crisscrossing lines and several daubs of blue and red

Circles ascending and descending.

She rises at dawn

Pick some apples from under the tree

Art is simplicity, simplicity is art

Like kindness.C2218A67-1C3E-43EB-ADA8-3F33436A0BDA.jpeg

Little Things

 

Walking to the river is my quotidian proclimation

A morning with flashes of sharp breeze and exaggerated cloud formations

A fugitive or a caged bird

Life, a quilt floating in time, fertile and vulnerable

Always lacking in certainty

Piecing  parcels together fuels the effort

Ages I scale are experiences of different personalities

Each stage has its own expressions and demands:

Writing, cooking, doing laundry—little  things, mundane and sacred

The progression, a knowing like I felt everything

Fishemen, artists, lactating mothers, even geniuses

Want to live a real life of home.

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Time passing

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You have not returned from your walk

You should have been getting ready

To go to ride the ferry 

Eating breakfast, dressing up

But morning unfurls like a yarn with a cat

The telephone is garbled confusion

Converging into cries and disbelief

Of what has happened.

 

Tears take time to dry

Smile takes time to sustain

Flowers, sea, flamingoes, stories can not 

Take the place of loss, we

Brave each morning, learning

New steps, each night may bring 

New dreams, to remember and celebrate 

Your life that will not return 

Understanding and surrender take time

Love bears and endures all things 

The only truth I have to know.

To thread a needle

It will be difficult to thread a needle

If you are farsighted.

 

He loses his temper and throws the dental floss

He doesn’t want to talk or smile.

 

She doesn’t chase the last word anymore when she talks

She observes the three bees on the rhododendron.

 

He drives in the forest and along the coast

He is calm under the redwood trees.

 

She drops the vase filled with water and flowers on the living room

Her right hand is bleeding.

 

He helps her clean up

They decide to make amends.

 

“Seize the day,” the poet says

Helping others is the crowning praise.

 

It’s wonderful when verb and adjectives are used together

I like crabs dancing under the candle lights.

 

When pronouns drop in , it’s hilarious

All the nouns scatter.

 

They are laughing walking on the beach

Beethoven is a pianist, then a composer.

 

Experience of loss and sad endings are dispersed in life

They are secret ingredients of freedom.

 

She runs alone, alone with her own thoughts

The hardest challenge.

 

Failure, triumph, dried tears, lost tracts of time

In sepia then autumn raging with colors.

 

Embroidery is a sacred craft

We welcome new threads.

Good things

I walk to the river

My mind filled with doubts

 

Standing on the riverbank

The egret watches ducks pass by 

Like thoughts

 

Somewhere I lose my way

After solid struggle I find the correct turn

 

Imagine

If I can do now

The good things I forgot

To do before.

 

Hope

Sprouts during moments

When the desert looks completely

Deserted.

.

The length of day

The day is new, let’s wave and embrace morning

Watch the fronds unfurl from sleep

Sun’s salutation, the first definition.

You are awake, look for the spider

Hungry and watchful and subtle

Experimentations in few moments of being:

A hole on the fence to see a world

Wide, bright, and far reaching

Turning a page, empty, eager to be filled

Words, sketches, and bouncing minds.

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And you think the day is short