Today, the church celebrates the feast of St. Joseph, Jesus' foster father and the spouse of the Blessed ****** Mary. Precious little is known or mentioned about Joseph in the Bible. He was a carpenter, and he was a good man: righteous and honorable. He doesn't say a single word, has a few angelic visits in his sleep with instructions and promptly obeys, and dies quietly sometime between finding Jesus in the temple and when Jesus begins his public ministry. There are a number of times throughout the Bible where God speaks to people in or through dreams.

For The Dreamers

For all the dreamers and the ones who dare to dream
For all the times reality is more than what it seems
For all who listen patiently for the call to something more
Those who take the chance and walk through the open door
To find a piece of paradise where dreams become realized
A Heaven where our lives and selves are idealized
To those who want a better world and find a lasting peace
To those who quest for answers and those, for truth, that seek
For all the ones that doubted said "No. It can't be won!"
For the ones who still believed there was work yet to be done
For all who triumphed. The overcomers and the unsung heroes
For all the refugees who are more than ones and zeroes
From the Martin Luther Kings to the kid on the streets
The homeless and the hungry with no shoes on their feets
They too, have dreams, they have futures and a hope
The one who sings the one who paints so they can cope
Could be just the inspiration that someone so desperately needs
To dream, to grow, to rise up and do great deeds

Sometimes we wake up with a vision
An image or thought clear as day
Something inspired and amazing
Finding answers and solutions to things that previously vexed
The clarity when pieces fall into context
If you hear his quiet voice while you sleep
Answer: "Your servant is listening. Lord, please speak"
Trust that he will lead you and you will not go astray
Have faith in the Lord, take heart, listen and obey

Slow Joe
Have a heaven, the order, to sulk?
With the ought, a handsome moment
Considered an angel's heed, will we ever fall?

Why?
Avid as salt is, we are owed...
A pace of might, the times are real, to sigh's
Stirring a house for a flower, sincerity is our force?

Our salvation of promises, still a world
We made, with an overt harmony
Two of unity, one of vanity, and none blessing courage
With the muse we made, simplicity with legend, only?

Tired eyes, that came with life...
Saying if not saving, a chance meeting
With bared integrity, a fire striving
To be, the coming choice, of a worth's meaning?

The world owed, the world loved
Cares of omnipotence, fate to understate purpose
Passion is but a wish away, from a covenant's some
Promises found to be, a climate for what heaven knows...

When the paintbrush of the day
is tucked away
and the sunset dipped
in the forest of the night
the moon wanes and waxes
down the hills of stars  
atop that shady wrap.

Who peeps in
where the sleeping beauty wakes
is any one guess
nor it's a amateur's business.

Far from the half lit astral canopy
any bucket lowered  
deep down on the ground
into a barrowed well of colours
comes up with a Joseph of Cannon
the firesome story goes on.
The same fire burner
is also the same fire extinguisher
Alexander the Great intrigued life water
cool serene cup of Ab-e Hayat elixir!

I'm sending you an indigofera tinctora
plant it, water it, grow it
when it blooms
pluck a petal and hold it to your eye
look at me
through its vulnerable corolla
for when you need to see beyond the tangible
the little girl you created
Aubrey -
A not so ordinary girl or name
But who's to blame?

I'm sending you a stained glass dreamcatcher
careful it doesn't break
hang it over your bed
when you wake, hold it to your eyes
look at me
for when you need to see my truth
Joseph's coat of many colors
Aubrey -
A not so ordinary girl or name
But who's to blame?

I'm sending you the promise of a flood-free future
take a step closer
study it
place the promise between us
illuminate
for when you seed to my truth
hate-proof, judge-proof, water-proof
Aubrey -
A not so ordinary girl or name
But who's to blame?

I’m not a son or a grandson. I’ll say
Politely: I have not memories’ ton!
Only my soul is sad night and day
That our beloved poet is gone!

In New York he left at the dawn of years—
In January it was snowing hard.
I read his books of poetry and prose
From cover to cover for the mind.

I know even his number of phone
And his home address for writing.
But I’m afraid very much of bad form,
There’ll be no one letters reading.

His memory’ll be memorized, I believe,
So that the text in bronze runs
On home: “Never be sad, people, time treats grief,
Joseph Brodsky lived here, this memorize!”
{2020}

К 80-ЛЕТИЮ ИОСИФА БРОДСКОГО

Я не сын, не внук. Скажу учтиво:
У меня воспоминаний нет!
Только где-то на душе тоскливо,
Что ушёл любимый наш поэт!
На рассвете лет ушёл в Нью-Йорке -
Снег тогда январский сильно мёл.
Книги все его от корки к корке
Я стихов и прозы перечёл.
Знаю даже номер телефона,
Адрес дома – чтобы написать.
Но боюсь я очень моветона –
Будет письма некому читать.
Память – верю я – увековечат.
В бронзе текст на доме чтоб гласил:
«Не грустите, люди! Время лечит!
Здесь Иосиф Бродский раньше жил!»
{14.05.2020}

Translator - I. Toporov

I tell ya.
Angels
are not as much of a flight risk
as you first may think.
The cherubim however
are flighty
and way more likely to fly off
at the baby's first cry
Like they've got somewhere else to be.
Just try. You'll see.
Not even a bye-bye.

But angels, oh man.
Angels -
I'm a fan.

You can set your Sat Nav
on an Angel.
Dreamtime or lunchtime,
they'll be your guide.
- Sublime.

Me and Mary
were fans.

- Jesus!
Put those nails down.
If your mum catches you with those, she'll go spare.