time is
the space in which we grow
   without awareness
   in our early years
structured by meals
   arrivals and departures
   light and dark
   hot and cold
   school   studies  play  adventures
   celebrations
and by waiting
   anxiously or not
for things to happen

time is
that feeling
that we may not have enough of it
in our later years
busy with jobs and family and travel
covering long distances in order to
achieve and educate and care

time is
what starts to rush by us
with increasing speed
in our final years
making us wonder
what it really means

that space
by which we measure
our lives
   our universes
      our worlds

time is

over the past weeks
a gentle autumn sun
has painted colored leaves
upon the ground
and thinned
the bright abundance
of the wooded ranges

most of the harvest
is securely stored by now
or sold at morning markets
by weathered men and women
in country garbs

vintners are busy with their lots
fermenting grapes
and entertaining those
who see their visit
as pleasant pastime and escape
from daily urban chores

hunters and lumbermen
are waking up
to shoot and mark

schools by this time
have settled into the new year
teachers are happy still to share
the knowledge of our world
with students still inclined
to listen

businessmen
remembering their vacations
on the Bahamas or in Saint Tropez
step sprightly into offices
womanned by secretaries dreaming secretly
of beautiful Mallorca summers
and of those never-ending nights
on the Algarve

I guess it is a human thing
to find a new beginning
and do best
when nature’s breath goes easy
to collect the strength
for yet another fruitful year

or were it better
that we also took a rest?

           * *

talkshows and the yellow press
get excited in excess
over his shenanigans
that delight his faithful fans

rumors of these *** affairs
strong words for all macho players
     in the game of social thrones
texts with threatening undertones
     for minorities and women
     treating immigrants like demons

neither fans nor his opponents 
seem to notice the components
of the white house strategy

     throw them bones
     fodder for the yellow press

and while  they fight
clandestinely out of sight
works the Trumpian policy
 
money laundering   blatant lies
scolding allies   breaking ties
adoring foes   praising those
     usurpers of democracies
     experts in atrocities
slowly yet persistently
     undermine  civility  
     with foul language 
fill all courts with servile judges

court the aristocracies 
         of oil sheikdoms in the East
praising communist dictators
who have helped him build his towers

step by step he‘s leading US
from the groups of international powers
to an isolation desert
at the margins of the world
slogans we have rarely heard
over decades  
      now re-nourished
twittered with presidential flourish
make America small again

warning voices call in vain

no wonder the statue of liberty
is hiding her face in misery (*)

dead bodies floating
in our oceans
from the Asian Pacific
to the Mediterranean

crumpled corpses lying
on our beaches
thousands drowned unknown

overcrowded detention centers
not unlike concentration camps
behind barbed wires
guarded by police and snarling dogs

nobody feels responsible

not  those who started wars
destroyed whole cities
made millions homeless
and into refugees

not those who take advantage
of the chaos for their own gain
abusing the names of their gods
or some ancient figurehead
to excuse their atrocities and greed

not those who live
in comfortable homes
and wish the desperate crowds
would just stay on the TV screen
and not come close

nor those who pretend
to be the guardians
of our great humanitarian heritage
but show no backbone
against nationalist fanatics

it is the shame of the world
to sit and talk and watch
and not do enough

those who turn away
the needy and homeless
could also
      quite suddenly
lose their homes

forced to rely
on the kindness of strangers

it happened once
upon a time

a place with a piano
   much wine
  & cozy talk
they left late
   tied in an amiable hug
heading for their separate quarters
   each knew
   the other shared
   with someone else

passing through the old library
she gently pulled him down
    upon a persian rug
    and lifted her skirts
    quite irresistibly

they melted in bliss

knowing it would happen
   only once
in their time

         * *

making love
suspends gravity
   and time
seconds expand
   into eternity
we are
   on top of the universe

floating
   in the fourth dimension
feeling  
   the birth of a new solar system
      amidst convulsive explosions
   whose brilliance
      light years into the future
   may be observed
   by keen astronomers

we do not mind

our system
radiates and shines
in its time

nothing else matters

we live in times when words have lost their meaning
they only serve to fill some soundbite gaps between
faces of popstars, politicians, presidential candidates,
maybe some refugees, victims of crimes and natural catastrophes

and more sensational media creations flooding our lives
with unrelenting hype unless you push the button
that brings quiet to your life   and you find time to reconsider
what it might be  exactly you desire to achieve

in the short time we are allotted in this world
you will discover it is not the senseless media blather
but some coherent thoughts turned into words becoming deeds
enacting change leading to bold decisions

think for yourself and don’t let others think for you
then speak your thoughts in words like others cannot do

when a bunch of  old Senate men
and some intimidated women
voted to heave

     an accused ******
     and proven liar with an alcohol problem
     given to irascible outbursts, fits of self-pity
     and insulting comments on women

into a lifelong seat on the highest court in the nation
     against voluminous evidence of his lacking qualifications
the statue of the Goddess of Justice
     whom a former attorney general
      had all covered up in blue cloth
dropped her sword and scales
tore off her blindfold
and covered her naked ******* in shame

the other day
I occupied a chair
at a sidewalk café
watching the vanity fair of the quotidian
float by in quickly changing apparitions

an endless flow of different ages, nations, fashions,
skin colors, miens, ****** expressions, postures & gaits
kept passing through  my field of vision

it made me wonder why
some people get so furious
when they  just hear about
    not even meet
    the ‘others’ different from themselves
that they start dropping  bombs and shooting rockets

I think they rather should be curious
and eager to discover
how the immense variety of humankind
can help expand a locally grown mind

and recognize
that we are all of the same kind

the day
when even the not so faithful
were tempted to pray
for the health of the nation

at times we tend to think
our democracy is safely founded and secure
only eventually we recognize
the need to constantly defend its fundamental rights
work steadily against their stealthy abolition
watch carefully the words of politicians
       lest they betray what they pretend to say
think twice for whom we cast our votes
avoid contenders who too often bray
     that these were not their quotes  
listen to those who have good arguments
     do not unleash too easy sentiments
and in the end cast our votes when called

in short  
democracy turns out to be hard work

     in case we shirk this
     we soon pay the price

unfree societies have known
     dictatorship  corruption  vice
have often needed centuries
to remedy injuries done
to find their four freedoms

and to recognize
democracy remains a living promise
a brilliant idea with many faces
always a work in progress

this poem
is not about you

even though
your spirit is in every word
your voice sounds strong
in the halls of my mind
telling me things
I am now sure
I want to know

this poem is
about me

trying to understand
you

the clouds of cloudland
cast a light of pastel slate
through dripping windowpanes

and as if in a dream
we move and touch
I feel your loving lips
take in all that is yours
all I can give to you
in this enchanted moment
we carved
   in sudden desperation
out of the marble stream of time

           * *

the art of poetry
    like any art
produces better work
when writers are not only
erudite but also smart

the lovers' painful state
upon loss or desertion
is voiced much more impressively
with less dramatic flourish
and more of the grate
that finishes the sword
at the old blacksmith's fire
where the hot flame of our desire
    thrown into water
with a defiant hiss
turns into deadly steel
ready to **** and ******
     friend or foe or lover
in our desperate search
     for exits from the mire

or take the unexpected loss
    of victory that seemed so close
    on a wild battlefield
when suddenly the hero's gallant steed
    falls victim to a hostile archers shot
and its proud rider is reduced to shout
"A kingdom for a horse!"
rather than holding a long monologue
    about the treachery of fate

in  short
less is oft' more
and lets the readers fill the empty spaces
with their own images and graces

food
the requirement of life
comes in all shapes and tastes
   and smells and quantities

to the starving
   a bowl of rice
   the bottom barely covered
to the obese
   a five-course meal
   or piles of junk food
   in bright packaging

the starving
celebrate their meals
   in quiet concentration
each grain of rice
   is tasted carefully
   and chewed with care
extracting to the full its scant nourishment

the last one disappears
   with unheard sighs
when junk food and the five-course meal
   have long been finished

it seems we live in times
when helping hands extend only reluctantly
to those in dire need who had to leave
     the ruins of their devastated homes
     not waiting for more bombs to fall
to those who had to save their lives
     from the barbaric rule of self-styled prophets
and those whose simple love of education
     was met with inane terror and oppression

why is it that so many people
     are afraid of them and think
     these desperate refugees are perpetrators
          not the victims

why is it that the nations most responsible
      for chaos and destruction in these countries
           far from their own safe shores
      are the least willing to accommodate
      those they have driven from their homes

good Samaritans have become scarce
only a few today share their possessions
     with those who are in greater need

our humanity has been outsourced
to NGOs and sundry other institutions
to whom we donate so they feed
the hungry   poor   and the displaced

it makes one wonder whether shameless greed
has indeed  
    and without any saving grace
become the only goal of our race

that over millenia
major religions have advocated peace
their adherents have been slaughtering each other    
     supposedly in the name of their assorted gods
more than any other known species

why is it
that in my maturity
(which people usually call old age ...)
I‘m getting so *******
with politicians who seem not to see
the obvious solution to a problem
but find elaborate fake excuses
just so they can get re-elected

why is it
that for Europe it‘s so difficult
to find a way for refugees to be accepted
with respect and  dignity

why is it
that the USA apparently forgets it‘s been the country
living off its (il)legal immigrants for centuries
and now simply ignores the words
they put onto their Statue of Liberty

why is it?!??

rainstorms fiercely bulge the waves
toss honeysuckle and bougainvilleas
blow their blossoms high
towards the rainbow
that in sunny moments
sparkles over volcanic hills

amidst the terrifying news
that oozes daily from our television
I wonder what our world is like

is there indeed nothing to report
but global warming  war  and refugees
greedy power mongers  and ****** politicians

why does the money I donate
seem not to make a difference
in suffering Africa
end global violence and exploitation
help refugees to find a home

I wish the news were more exhiliarating
and lift our souls
rather then send them
into useless desperation

these days
looking around the globe
one might believe that we are travelling in time

just in the wrong direction

regression as progress
seems to be
the dominant notion of the day
creating wannabees in various disguises
     populist czars, sultans, nationalists, dictators,
     assorted self-appointed snake-oil salesmen
     and saviors of their peoples’ wealth and health,
trumpeting fences, walls, tough immigration laws,
etc., etc.  
to keep out all those aliens

     who otherwise are welcome
     as our partners in the global trade
     that seems to dominate the world of greed

so we can all be ourselves

     whatever that might mean

claiming to solve the problems of tomorrow
     with romanticized memories of yesterday
is hopeless and quite dangerous

do you remember
what that glorified past
actually was?

I move
through gently opening embraces
and find myself
firmly enveloped in your luscious warmth
that urges me to push on further
until we reach the moment
  out of time and space
that holds us close
forever and again
  one
in a world of brilliant galaxies
  exploding
in deep space

a shop sells spirits and flowers
for Valentine's and Ballantine's
it's owner's face quite happily shines

Spread claims you are the only one who can stop corrupt politicians and their dependence on the rich (even though you yourself belong to the rich)

2. Spread lies and insults about anyone who might look like a serious opponent

3. Once you are in power, continue 1. & 2. and put your rich friends into influential positions in state offices and courts, give tax breaks to the rich and claim that everyone benefits from them. Declare any information that runs counter to your lies „fake news“.

4. Invent threats to the security and well-being of the nation and then claim you are the one who can solve all the problems by strict measures, like building a 2,000 mile wall against those criminal immigrants that threaten your people – what the „fake news“ reports as a few thousand refugees from neighboring countries who flee from misery and persecution and crime and hope to get asylum in your country of 350 million.

5. Cut your aid programs for the home countries of those resfugees so that the situation there worsens even more and even more people will try to run for a better life, and you can rhetorically justify inhuman security measures at your borders.

6. On a different field, isolate your country internationally, be the elefant in the china shop, break or end international agreements, destabilize whole regions, and then threaten to send the military – all of which, you tell your voters, makes your country great again.

7. Start trade wars with old global partners, accusing them of taking advantage of your countrty, and when your own economy suffers from such idiocies, calm your afflicted followers with federal subsidies that jolt the nationl deficit to singular heights.

8. Fire (or mob into retirement) any critical person in your government until all your officials speak with your voice.

9. Look around for a worthy cause to be the focus of your consoldidated power.

10. Start a world war and lose it.

when my time comes
it comes
and I will gladly leave
to those who go on living
the task of sorting out
the mess I have accumulated
over years

let them discover
not only the stamp collection
the bank accounts
but also unknown niches
of their father’s/friend’s/husband’s life
the words unspoken
scribbled on some paper
thoughts never shared
for lack of time or opportunity
the letters to a friend of yore
emails to many people
hints of potential
love affairs that maybe never happened
ideas to change the world
into a better place

here I am
  now with a 7 before my years
envisioning life after death

a sign of vanity
perhaps
or an expression of despair

I am not sure

it may just be
the fleeting thoughts
on a clear winter evening
when cold creeps slowly
but insistently
into your bones

reminding you

   of all that cold space
   in our universe
   how it grows larger by the second

making you wonder
if it has a plan
and if that plan
includes you
speculating
about your destiny

        * *

how do I write about the beauty of the world
when barefoot people pass before my window
in search of shelter

how do I share my pleasure of the birds' sweet song at dawn
when I see faces etched with panic
from the deafening blast of bombs

how to rejoice in love and friendship
when meeting people who could barely save their lives
after burying their loved ones

how can I write with passion of the kindness of the human heart
when I see thousands fleeing from the ruins of their homes
only to face police   walls   barbed wire

true words are hard to find
as said a poet of an older war

    when it is a lie to speak
    a lie to keep silent

not easy

a grandchild
   for her 9th birthday
very happy
    to be away from her older
   as well as her younger sister
  for a while
spent a  long weekend
with her grands

   they picked her up
   schoolbag and bathing suit
   and guitar & everything else

she had already mentioned
   that French Toast for breakfast
would be REALLY nice
and that’s what she got
together with chocolate milk
   1 minute in the microwave,
   according to her wish
patiently reading her book
while the oldies got their act together
   in their slow morning routine

they all went birthday shopping
   & out for lunch
she read her book again while the oldies
    were snoring their nap
& then they all had great fun
    swimming and horsing around in the public pool

watching some TV  
   & improving her ping-pong game
happy & tired
after dinner some goodnight reading
doughnuts and hot chocolate for breakfast
next morning
   and then
    with grandma’s help
printing out a card for Mom on Mother’s day
AND baking real  brownies as a gift….

a happy & proud 9-year old
   was delivered to her parents
& presented her mother with the card
   & the brownies & the new dress
   & the homework all done

somehow
the guitar practice had gotten lost

yet she was the envy of her siblings
for the day

           * *

you listen to what passes for the TV news
you read some
but not all
of social media views
you notice that
despite all internationalism
it‘s mostly old sensationalism
combined with more or less suggestive speculations about
how many people may have died in forest fires
to what imaginable depths the president aspires
whether the North Koreans have more rockets
     despite the wonderful achievements
     of the national superdealer
who of the leader‘s staff might be the next
      to lose her job or his credentials
etc. etc.

in short
the world has mostly shrunk
to domestic politics and power games
plus a few places on the globe where
U.S. soldiers still are dying
     in order to protect their country‘s interests
     in oil, assorted mineral resources
     or allies of political expedience
or a few thousand refugees from countries plagued
      by persecution or dictators are
      marching for weeks to claim asylum
           in the home of the brave and the free
           under the statue of liberty
     only to discover that they are seen
     as an invasion threatening
            that blesséd city upon a hill

visions have grown smaller
more petty voices dominate the talk

a nation made of immigrants
faced with the poor who flee from their oppressors
decides to close its borders to the immigrants‘ next wave
oblivious of the times when they themselves
still searching for a better life
found a new place where they felt safe
led by the statue‘s torch that shone its light
upon a poet‘s words of welcome:

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

we look at TV screens that show
thousands of persecuted and bombed-out families
on the run for safety and sheer survival

so sorry

borders are shuttered now
the boat is full   no more come in
we have to think of ourselves

so sorry

we sincerely regret that you
are suffering from cold and rain and snow
in your rickety makeshift camps

so sorry

we are sure there’s someone
to take care of all that mess

it’s just not us

so sorry

there now is a graduate from Yale
who lies boldly
               getting red and then pale
when asked about girls
and high school beer swirls
he swears he never drank too much ale

the setting sun glows crimson over distant hills
people enjoy the balmy temperatures
sip their mojitos and manhattans
anticipating finger food and tapas
chatting with friends and neighbors

not everybody notices
the folding blossoms of the garden flowers
or the sweet evening songs of birds
the daring hedgehog venturing forth
    to look for food
the smell of honeysuckle gaining force
    under the rising moon

the beauty of our nature
often gets talked away in conversations
reduced to just a pleasant ambiance
that loosens our tongues

in our obsession to communicate
we tend to overlook the soft magnificence
the world presents to us in dusky evening hours

two leaders once met in Helsinki
for talks that looked somewhat *****
as it turns out
                still nobody knows
what they were talking about
and that indeed smells rather stinky

in hard times especially
those of us who can afford it
should be generous

unless we want to have
tanks in our streets again soon

giving thanks
can be a very existential thing
as the legendary settlers in New England learned
when they arrived
   as illegal immigrants
and the natives
   though wary of their guns and swords
taught them to plant
   corn together with fish
and shared their harvest with them
   late in the year

giving thanks may be a very personal thing
whenever we travel far away
are given a friendly welcome
are fed and housed by the natives
and accepted into their families

giving thanks is a very human thing

it shows that we are aware
of the fragility of our life

that it always depends
on the kindness of strangers
who help us to survive
in their world

after all

we are aliens
in most parts of our globe

          * *

I release you, my beautiful and terrible
fear. I release you. You were my beloved
and hated twin, but now, I don't know you
as myself. I release you with all the
pain I would know at the death of
my children.

You are not my blood anymore.

I give you back to the soldiers
who burned down my home, beheaded my children,
***** and sodomized my brothers and sisters.
I give you back to those who stole the
food from our plates when we were starving.

I release you, fear, because you hold
these scenes in front of me and I was born
with eyes that can never close.

I release you
I release you
I release you
I release you

I am not afraid to be angry.
I am not afraid to rejoice.
I am not afraid to be black.
I am not afraid to be white.
I am not afraid to be hungry.
I am not afraid to be full.
I am not afraid to be hated.
I am not afraid to be loved.

to be loved, to be loved, fear.

Oh, you have choked me, but I gave you the leash.
You have gutted me but I gave you the knife.
You have devoured me, but I laid myself across the fire.

I take myself back, fear.
You are not my shadow any longer.
I won't hold you in my hands.
You can't live in my eyes, my ears, my voice
my belly, or in my heart my heart
my heart my heart

But come here, fear
I am alive and you are so afraid of dying.

cope with all the greed  injustice and brutality
we learn about day in  day out

with some luck
these are not part of our own experience
but second hand  from news and media

this does not make it better  though
when trusted public figures fail

how to react
    to priests and teachers
          who abuse the young
    to presidents  dictators  populists
          leading astray their countries
    to our elected politicians
          unable to resist the lure
              and money
          of those special interest groups
    to ruthless powermongers  businesses
          that only work for profit
          not the common good
    
resistance is not easy
the choice of weapons in this conflict difficult

yet if we not resist
not make the global and the smaller perpetrators
accept responsibility for their misdeeds

our living years will soon grow fewer
and we shall hasten our journey
     to the end of all our needs

no dead birds in the oven
no innards in the stuffing
nor fatty drippings to be scraped and poured

the smell of roasted veggies
wafts through  the wintry air
pumpkin and sweet potatoes
marshmallows  green beans  lentils
turnips  & collard greens
hashed browns & black-eyed peas
quinoa  sorghum cuscus hummus
carrots  leak  broccoli Romanescu
gumbo in southern regions
wild rice dishes in the north
tastily spiced with turmeric
cumin and baked paprika
Indian curry  soy sauce  chipotle
as well as with the usual suspects
of garlic  salt  and pepper
and whatever fits the taste of hosts

in short
a venerable feast to demonstrate
how nature feeds us a large cornucopia
of plants for our delight and sustenance

in short
no need to **** a bird

                * *

I sit
   all by myself
   again
and look out
   down upon the streets
cigarette in hand
a glass of wine upon the table
love's sweet exhaustion lingering in my bones
   and smell upon my skin
feeling so young and yet somehow so old

A late night bus drones by
and takes strange people
   to their desired stops
in a city
where I know only few
that could say
  yes  
  it's him

a woman with unsteady midnight gait
secretly walks her dog
into the public park
   both little more than blurs
   of bluish white and brown
   in the half-shadow
   of forbidden bushes

a couple leans entwined
   forever in a parting kiss
   upon the doorstep
unmindful of the plane
   that comes in low and loud
   before the landing

why is it that these moments
   seem eternal and yet
I sense the rush of time go fast
   and pass me by
   and her
   who sleeps next door

and leave us lost among our memories
of what was lovely
   and so beautiful
   before

          * *

after some grey days
comes the sun
   summer heat
spectacle on the Seine

to commemorate

"La Route de l'Armada"
a fleet for tourists
that never was

yet nice to watch
   nevertheless
with fireworks
   & stately masts
sails folded orderly
decks scrubbed
the crews all smiles
ready to answer
   all the children's questions

in between
gray & inaccessible
some men-of-war
of more contemporary make

among them
   somewhat tarnished
one single ship
that really carried
allied soldiers
in its sightless hull
on that gray morning

and suddenly
   if only for a moment
you smell the sweat
   of fearful courage
hear ammunition
   click into magazines
the waves break dull
with hollow sound
amidst the crashes
   of firework artillery
that splits the waters
upward from the ground

they told me
my father died quietly
in his sleep
at 2 a.m.

with his pain-ridden last years
I think he was not unhappy
to go farther for once
return to the cosmos he came from
wake up painless
     at peace
floating in the universe
he had admired from mountain peaks
all of his life

thinking in quiet
at the end of a busy day
about what you have actually done
can yield sobering results

a certain morning stiffness
in your joints

you find your face
in the bathroom mirror
and wish you hadn't

the puzzled wisdom
    of middle age
wavers from your eyes
deepening wrinkles
   of many laughs
   many frowns

   how many more?

   nevermore ?!

the room becomes aflutter
with poesque ravens
the presence of absences
fills the void
your life is on the brink
of deconstructing itself
to the periphery of the universe
a discourse of silence
forever becoming ... becoming ...
what...?

   nevermind!

so

you close your eyes
   hard
for a minute or two

when you look again
you meet the stare
of a not-so-bad-looking
man in his best years
  
   graying sideburns
   receding hairline
   20 pounds too many
      BUT
   a firm decision
   to work them off
  
   still a bit sleepy
   yet determined
   to shave
      get dressed
      have breakfast
  
   and teach
   that wonderful seminar
   on 19th century poetry
   to eager graduate students

our lives are fraught with numbers

so many fractions of a second faster in a race  
most wins on record   best jury votes
highest flight   deepest dive   most goals
meters of rising sea levels
millions of refugees   and more displaced
tens of thousands  honor killings
thousands of deaths with Ebola  
millions of Zika virus victims next year
billions of deficit or profit in import/export
    or the stock exchange
votes in elections    or for beauty queens

polls    tweets   virtual friends  & followers
likes on the social media    on hellopoetry

we have been taught to measure our status
our importance   and the significance of our lives
in clicks of other peoples’ digital devices

even our time has been reduced to numbers
the digital has long replaced the comprehensive
instead of the round dial that shows 12 hours
    suggesting the duration of a normal day
we have a punctual display  without the whole
the cyclical has lost against the linear

0101010101010101010101010101010101
we all look forward to our numbered future
no past  and very little present

our hands on smart phones    homes    TVs
    pushing a button makes things move
    swishing a screen displays the world

over all that we easily forget
that we ourselves have been reduced to numbers
    of customers for businesses
    of voters for the politicians
    of workers for the corporations
    of citizens for our nations
digital quantities we have become

and if we take a global view
we are part of the seven billion plus
that currently inhabit our earth


all of which do expect their individuality
be honored  and their dignity respected

numbers don’t  honor individuality
they simply count the units
items  or people  are for them the same

it’s left to us to find a way
that leaves the numbers in their place
yet guarantees us dignity
as individual members of the human race

my friends said last night
I should write something light
something shiny and bright
to the readers’ delight

no fights and no terror
no soldiers no war
no suicide bombers
no refugees galore

after all   it’s the season
when altogether we sing
of the love that we bring
to each other
    within reason

so I am doing my best
NOT   to make a clean breast
    of the worries that plague me
cuddle deep in my nest
only welcome the guests
who brings me good news
and carefully wipes
all bad cues from their shoes
ere they enter my house

so  
to rouse our good feelings
we all listen to the chimes
of the church bells a-pealing

and to a poem that rhymes

colorful paint
on a blue canvas
runs down in strings

crossing borders & languages
flowing into hearts and minds
slowly
at ease

the bottom end
of the canvas
is not the end
of the message

the day you went
   into that other world
the day spring began
is etched into my memory

I know
thousands of mothers die
every day

but this time
it was you

my mother

to bend
to the limits
of our life

hurts

almost beyond words

Diapers and politicians
need to be changed frequently
and for the same reasons

********

los panales y los politicos
hay que cambiarles a menudo
y por los mismos motivos

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

where have conversations gone
long time passing
where have all our love words gone
long time ago
where have all our love words gone
mobiles took them, every one
when will we ever learn
I hope they will return

where have all the mobiles gone
long time passing
where have all the notebooks gone
long time ago
where have all the kindles gone
turned to tablets, every one
when will we ever learn
there will be no return

where have all the tablets gone
long time passing
where have all the smart phones gone
long time ago
where have all these gadgets gone
been recycled every one
never they will return
never they will return

where have all the users gone
long time passing
where have all the texters gone
long time ago
there lie all the facebooks slain
people try to speak again
when will we ever learn
hope they again can learn

I listen to the words of tv hosts
trying – or maybe just pretending – to analyze
topical issues of the day in depth
on their panels with certified experts on the issue

yet in the end mostly remains a host of possibilities
rarely a clear decision
more seldom even a provocative conclusion
one could at least start arguing about

what happened to well-structured arguments
that did not lend themselves to fuzzy readings
but had a recognizable opinion at their core
challenging viewers to discuss some more?

when I look up
   into a clear night sky
and feel
   the vastness of the universe
   touching me
it calls up
all the words
humankind has constructed
throughout millennia
so as to face the skies
   with dignity
and not go insane
   instantly
with this vague
   but almost overpowering
sense of helpless awe

neither
the most sophisticated machines
   we send to the edges
   of our solar system
nor the most complex theories
can calm me
when I look up
into a clear night sky