04 February 2015


Ombra mai fu ... cara ed amabile, soave piĆ¹.”

From my window
Snow drifting
Covering the landscape ahead

Fragile threads of ice
Interlaced tightly
A blinding spectacle
Resembling windswept petals
           Of springtime
Orange blossoms, almond blossoms, star magnolia


How hurried and hushed their moment
Falling, falling rhythms,
Descending unto death –
They melt with
A soft plunge into water
Brushing against its surface
Welcomed to the flow of rivers,
Shoulders of the brine

A handful of snowflakes,
Captured as they pass in flight – ­
They will have safety in my arms
Fever being absent,
Remote now,
Having ascended like a wisp
           Threading through cirrus veil
And my frenzy as a consequence is chilled,
My loss deep,
Its roots of an iceberg

From the window
Snow spreads steadily,
Covering my landscape ahead

When I opened the door
I stared at a whiteout:
An unending taffeta cloud it seemed
With a smiling brilliance 
Obscuring shadows and horizons.
I ran to it, happily pondering  its power
But soon felt trapped
And  craved the jumping lines
Between earth and sky,
And hoped the darkest shadows,
Vestiges of an unspent love
           Still could be seen


Snow moving with stealth
More snow falling,
My woolen cloak is made of snow –
Fiber spun from nothingness,
Frozen vapor.
More snow falling,
White, whiteness is blank,
The finest stark-white plaid


Exceptional warmth is.
           Found underneath a blanket of snow,
And there I sleep.
Overtop people are moving stealthily,
Bullies masquerading as seekers
Proselytizing with purposeful eagerness,
They are the busiest bees flying in wintertime
They will reeducate 
Those they have already reeducated
           From guilt and pity and without love I loved them
           These sermonizing automatons

Asleep – ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

I memorized their sermon
Before climbing the parapets,
But I was not cut from automaton cloth
I saw them, those waiting for eradication
I saw myself in their midst

Two months ago
Autumn turned into winter
Scarlet maple, Japanese maple, Platanus
Their tumbled lacy leaves
Are with me underneath the snow,
           As are the phantoms haunting me:
Predators, harpies,  
Their decaying flesh,
           The spit and polish on their visage.
Inevitably all will turn to compost –
If I stay here so will I

you are my sugar maple,
you, rock maple, hard maple tree,
the orange, yellow, red
of breath and breeze in fall.
I embrace you at nighttime
as we float
your pulse over me

from my window
sugar maple syrup till first sunblade
rock maple tree
tenderly, leaves are sprouting
swaying faint with a softer wind
sugar maple syrup till first moonbeam

This winter has played me out,
Each week lasting a decade

But there is no surrendering my war,
It seems I’ve chosen to persevere

A tenacious belief
The possibility of the unfeasible,
I hold on to it,
To the faith of spring
The hour when bleeding hearts carve the woodland floor
And rise above to bloom

Today I stare at denuded branches,
Listen to their silence

Once upon a time a whisper
Made me happy
           And I leaned back into it

                     From sun and shade
The canopy fashioned patchwork squares
Their umbra became our shield, revealing everything

just once more

one last exorcism
followed by
a freedom run
a fire on the beach
I am alone or with,
but better with
when I disrobe
I throw my garments
into the flame
           the blaze is visible
from the water, shoulders of the brine
           again we take
our hesitant, our imperfect
           first swim,
imperfect enough
to make us happy
and that is perfection
and that is a genesis   
                     of more,
                     once more,
                     much more,

"Ombra mai fu" from  Serse,  George Frideric Handel