I always wish
for my windows
to face the sun

a revolving house
I plan activities
around the light

moving courting
a gentle routine
caressing my walls

as the flowers heads
up and silent pride
it is me contented

yours is a daily
kiss I crave for

may my smile
be forever loving
as I play in life

new roles and adjust
words as a tight dress

may wind clothe me
forever changing
just that loving smile

let that one survive

the mothering love
of letting go

silently keeping
a corner

warm the nest
ready to welcome

anytime me
the wounded bird

a small body
still crossing oceans

the littlest
month coming
but I wished it stuffed

with all colors of peace
gratitude and smiles of
understanding a cold drink
can be sweet in silence
savored limbs stretched

infinite beauty my
thoughts a pillow
come lay with me

some nights

I soothe restlessness
vacating the house
for a brisk walk

until steps get
few and slower
I may stargaze

or understand at once
those leaves shaking
in the dark torpor

I may turn to catch
the light patter of
my shadow born

under the moon

my favorite occupation
has been that of
listening to silence

to give shapes
to music singing
with my hands

on top of the colors
that lay already there
to tiptoe in-love

slowing down
my responses
to evade darkness

into the beauty held
inside as the harmony
viable all around

it’s the beauty we hold
and carelessly wear around
what we’ll be missing more

I’ve been that route

bumps holes and crevices
known to me if you’ll let me
stop the nonsense and hold
dear what we have

the sun rests
on my hair on a
winter afternoon

hours fleeting
rushing into the
calm evening

not daring to
go inside subtracting
myself from grace

I keep my head down
bowed as I write between
letters my emotions

some poems
long to be gardens
or more likely lakes

enclosed and safe
ideal for thinking
suitable for letting go

where even silence
is guarded precious
embracing yet

leaving time out
somehow a small
palpitation held

between hands

it is a revelation
not one cicada
sounds the same

a butterfly sitting
by me admiring
something I lose

myself on such lightness
I use to tell children
to stop and to listen to

the songs  of
butterflies as
they nodded back

it is so
that every morning
I go about pressing the foot
on the same path that’s how

habits are formed good ones

I’ve learned in between

steps to make treasure of
observation new revelations
as they come blossom

in presence

I pick up words
as small daisies
on a spring field

careful to hold them
in small bunches
never as beautiful

as when first spotted
a memory of wonder
blushing as they close

around their meaning
covering the heart
shy of a truth near

enough for our dull spirit

to remember a note
or two

where the horizon
goes
horizontal

nothing to climb
and look down on

just a step over
looking at the other
side

and letting go

I notice the silence

not anymore the chirping
or the chatter of the wind

I notice the hummingbird
trying stillness by furious

flapping I stop engaging
myself I let go of my eyes

frantic grasping of letters
on a page putting the book

down where it was letting
my head as beheaded

falling too

early morning
every one works

to make the land
more beautiful

sprinklers sing
water jumping

up in the air
birds grooming

their songs
elderly women

with rolls walking
their poodles

old pick up trucks
filled with new

flowers to plant
slowly driving by

me decorated
with an unexpected smile

I now expect little and live the moment
exploring while passing over

I’ve quit detaining I let
motion befalling having no

more addresses pinheads or pencils
I found myself delighted
in the last three lines

eternity roams
inside me I can’t
help but travel

forever wondering
the mind and space
on earth as in dreams

seeking some order
chasing the waters
harmony to fill me

deep from the inside
to make me a lake

alas at home

where I live
now is very hot
it's the dry desert

mountains encircle
the valley where
the rainbows lay

for short breaks
on periodically
sprinkled grass

I’ve seen rain
stepping on the sea
incessantly tapping

not able to carve
ancient holes

as on rocks
because it

was welcomed
it was welcome

should have taken one

picture as i walked in

bed spread tight

all folded and straight



me dog tired

before a long hot shower

cramped in one tomorrow



with everything i own

spreaded wastly around

a colorful explosion



I will walk around

picking up the pieces

stepping on geography



not singing over maps

using a finger

to caress a route and  



the thought of you

limping from hotel to hotel

and a sleeping bag



go away

artists’ lives are messy

it’s a known fact



the walls are disheveled

would I have some glue

to nail you there and there



I will hop around happily

tattooing words about us

and hiding some

under letters

to meet a man

with no past

.

of no recent past

better a man

.

that doesn’t call

past what is

.

present

that knows

his tenses

.

to meet a man

with a past that

.

made him

vulnerable yet

.

secure to take

risks in spite of

.

to be that man

to be one that

.

adds and not

steals to be a

.

man to be

of a man

.

to be

i’m

may my smile
be forever loving
as I play in life

new roles and adjust
words as a tight dress

may wind cloth me
forever changing
just that loving smile

let then one survive

I long for your hand
reaching out to you
in your solitary time

it feels right to exchange
tenderness as rare
garment today

everyone wearing
passion, jealousy, envy
claiming to feel

alive consumed indeed
that common look
wearing everything out

underwear outerwear
deeds feelings selfies
very little left beneath

simply I reach out
to your hand let it be
all with all its significance

the stillness
of some nights
has few equals

owls sounds
out of nowhere
under this canopy

honeyed darkness
wrapped around
my lonely steps

some times I miss
being the shore

constantly smoothed
by the froth caressed

by the whispering
waves to find myself

in the soft morning light
cleaned up reordered

from all the creases
of worrisome days

to ride the wind

is an old dream of mine

I have to (be) content for now

just whispers to my ears

wind that moves foliage

and flowers alike

that caresses the surface

of sea and rocks alike

to soar to dive to lazily

float around thing

breathing again

and again

powerful

weightless

time leaving

traces everywhere

victims never

to be avenged

time cannot

be hold it can

be classified

never arrested

and if doing some

serious thinking

we last but the

length of a breath

time shows itself

and swiftly go

on borrowed dreams

he said we are made

with the same atoms

as the sun and the stars

that a small part of him

could have been a star

long ago now fallen

on this solid planet

yet not having

a light of its own

he was afraid he

may fly apart

anytime once

more into the

finest powder

a tear in my eyes

as I dive into

deep thoughts

he never ceases

to surprise me

may we find a way

to silence the loud

obsessive thoughts

sons of fear to welcome

the ones shaped as wings

a conglomerate of lightness

feathers on strong muscles

to allow us to soar through

life’s beauty with our beak

open wide

not sure if it’s a song

my ear gathers or a

story gently murmured

out of the blue water

sailing between ridges

innumerable notes

I listen to these secret

codes I lightly stare

at the creases an

opening on the

improvising

let me wear existence

to move easily around

infinitude of problems

mind never ceasing

grudges uttered

between harsh words

I forgot I was once clad

with petals and blossoms

delicate easing out

fragrances as dreams

you don’t pay attention

nor have some sense

of smell no more sense

ordinary days of wasting

away in full daylight

allow me to dive

beneath the surface

of things told once

into a stream of

unconsciousness

into a sea of muffled

noises moving

slowly within a

smile performed

with my eyes as

you watch me

desiring sleep

what makes

the difference

between a word

and a scream

the curiosity

of seeing behind
past knowledge

to have the gaze

of who had never been

troubled by notions

foggy clouds
of opinions to be

carried away

swiftly over

the land disappearing

now light as dust