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The end of June and water skippers

These long days are an invitation to sit by a pond and contemplate nature. In my pond there is a city on legs, and here is a poem on those thoughts.

 

 

Rings upon rings

 

as if a torrent of rain

wants to drown this pond.

 

—Get close and see.

 

These ripples, not of rain,

but water skippers!

 

A city on legs

balanced on the skin of water.

 

In a game, or maybe a war,

of meet and retreat.

 

The smaller ones race

for a brief connection,

 

in a second secrets are shared

new circles inflate, shimmer

 

and fracture the calm

of a cloudy day

 

distort the mirror of trees

a vibration of braches

 

making the summer dance,

this is the hallucinogenic power

 

of waking on water.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Pensamientos en el día de los padres

I have been thinking a lot about my father lately. Maybe is because of Father’s Day, maybe because of the transient nature of our existence in this short-lived planet. Regardless of the reason, reading Sandeep Jauhar’s book ‘Heart A History,’ inspired this new poem. I hope you will enjoy it.

The organ as a heart

 

I want to see the depths

of my father’s heart,

the confusion

of failed arteries,

the atrophy

of muscle

from a life filled

with the spoils of regret.

 

I know it is just a pump,

no ‘virtue spirits’ there,

 

still, I struggle

to hold on to Galen’s view,

and pretend to know my father cared for me

in the caverns of those now-empty chambers.

I want to walk in its darkness

hold the softness of those walls,

to find its sentiments,

as flawed as the man that carried it.

 

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Today: Ancestral Voices

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