By the river I met my future self
No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man. — Heraclitus (6th Century B.C.) Walking along the Aare river I stop to see the water flow And think of Heraclitus’ dictum Ahead of me I spot a woman Wait, is that me? Same…
Que no acabe así
en la bici, camino al trabajo, me asalta un pensamiento podríamos morir en este instante en este radiante día de invierno antes de que la rueda de otra vuelta aplastados por su furia como cáscaras de huevo nuestras vidas en sus manos su cabeza llena de demonios como en aquel entonces, pero peor en el…
Let it not end here
As I bike to work a thought overtakes me We could all die now On this gorgeous winter day Before the wheel completes one more turn Crushed by his angry, mighty blow Like eggshell Our lives in his hands His head full of demons Like then, only worse At the red light a child in…
Away from the shopping frenzy
I couldn’t go to the mall The crowded shops terrorise me Instead, I walk into the solace of nature And in the roar of silent snow, Surrounded by total whiteness I catch my breath and calm my mind And I know that I love you I will wrap this certitude in Christmas paper
Their Lives
I never thought the pain would be physical Like a hole next to my heart Or is it here, close to the gut? ¿En las entrañas? (I never cared much for anatomy) So many years busy being parents Groceries to buy, forms to fill, meals to cook So much running around We were getting good…
In Nature, Everything is Connected
Confessions of a voyeuse I bike away from cars, buildings, cement Into nature I crave the connection, the experience of the spiritual I sit, camouflaged, surrounded only by trees, birds and minuscule species Ready to tune in to the energetic, the primal current, the breathing earth No human voice, just the distant sound of water,…
Las justas
Una variación sobre un poema de Borges (Los justos) Una mujer que labra la tierra, como lo hiciera su madre. La que compone un poema bajo la luz de la luna, mientras amamanta un niño. La que reconoce y nombra el dolor del otro. Dos mujeres que acompañan un enfermo en su lecho de muerte….
Laisse-moi te dire de vive-voix
A côté d’un “passe-moi le sel” Et un “on doit emmener la voiture au garage” Laisse-moi te dire Que tu m’as rendu heureuse toutes ces années. Avant qu’un éclair ne mette fin à nos vies Laisse-moi te dire à l’oreille que j’aime tes bras. Que tu es un mât auquel je m’accroche. Moi, oiseux libre,…
While we’re still here
Along with “pass me the salt” And “we have to take the car to the garage” Let me just say, You’ve made me happy all these years Before lightning ends your life or mine Let me whisper in your ear That I crave your embrace That you’re the mast I gladly cling to I, an…
Violeta
Ya nadie mas se sentará en el Eames lounge chair A todos les quedará grande Solo ella, con su mirada ancestral, podía presidir desde allí, observando impávida el ir y venir de vidas agitadas Podría uno confundir su actitud con soberbia Pero no, era la sabiduría de quien está de vuelta de todo y calla…
The Visionary
He said there’d be a bar
He saw the glittering glasses, the single malt whiskey bottles
He probably heard the guests’ laughter
We looked around the room
Herejías
“El mar está cerrado” dice un policía, obstruyéndome el paso “Por pandemia”, añade, “se cierra los martes” Perpleja contemplo el mar Cuerpo continuo de agua que rodea la tierra “Este mar es anterior a su vida y la mía, señor agente” Generoso, magnánimo, soberbio Aquí estaba antes de la peste bizantina Cuando el numero de…
Instrucciones para un recién nacido
Has llegado de lejos
pequeña criatura entrañable
hay fresas y colibríes
Este es un lugar hermoso
Mo’ther (mudh-), n. A female parent.
My mother was neither cradle nor lap
She was a sword, an arrow, an argument
Beautiful, sharp, and feline
Neither refuge nor anchor, my mother was a battle
Madre, f. Mujer que ha concebido o ha parido uno o más hijos.
Mi madre no era un arrullo ni un regazo
Era un sable, una saeta, un argumento
Bella, aguda, felina
Preferiría ser árbol
Observo impotente el dolor, la violencia, la muerte
Y me digo que preferiría ser árbol
Grief, you treasonable thing
A brie aux truffes set the disturbance in motion
A home called Trudi
Money, power, titles, aesthetics, social class, or eloquence, never impressed her
Dogs live too short a life
A dogbituary
The Therapist
It would be a voyage, she said
The destination: a more genuine, examined, less fragmented, version of myself
Beyondness
Where does the mind disappear to when bad news strikes us?
Instructions for the newborn child
Crush lavender seeds in your fingers, and then, eyes closed, take a deep breath into your hands
The truth I hold between your legs
You press your warm body onto me
I am still half asleep
My body too desires you, but not yet
Note to Self
You will keep forgetting what day of the week it is.
But you will rejoice with the warmth of spring sunshine on your face
Déjame decírtelo en vida
Yo, potra zaina, tan amante de mi libertad como del encierro de tu abrazo
Corrientes subcutáneas
Con cada inhalación me vuelvo más agua, menos carne, menos hueso
My sister’s name is Complicity
When I’m by her side, I slip back into my 7-year old me
Melba, the weaver
Melba became a pampered toddler; mothered by plenty, mothered by none
Cocofina of the World
I remember Cocofina of the world
Her back turned to the bedroom’s window
Eyes shut, chin up, taking deep breaths
Using words to make sense of experiences 