Peru and the World

We know that the country

loses many things.

And that citizens never

get back what is taken.

Even all this doesn’t mean

the world is wrong.

(Bees have hives—

bears steal their honey.)

Thus, don’t throw in your lot

with the dust!

#3302 (2-8-2012) For: J.P.

My Brother

His eyes

were as if the valves were shot off—

nearly sealed...!

What propelled such despair in his face?

Now wrinkled,

with deep ravines

(of old age).

Too many wakes,

too many sorrows

(for my brother).

A Minnesota Man’s fate!

Yes, it was that.

His mind, out to sea

in lonely exaltation

blaming nobody

(just old age undefeated,

too many wakes, and too many

sorrows…

too close to tomorrow).

Can he take more dread?

My mind asked and said:

which brings no peace?

Days and years pass,

old age creeps, slowly creeps.

Now sown with salt:

joy that once was

is joy most difficult—

The snake will not leave him alone,

so they share the world—

owing to neither an inch…

nor giving an ounce!

#3315 (3-30-2012)

For Mike, my brother

Song of the Demon before Dancing

“Who is she that is perfumed and desirable?

below us, under the moon’s dark eyelids!...

“Clothed and proud, polished little body.

“It is not Ronda the Seer’s lithe body: Oh, no—

“The old hag: this one is a Goddess—

—no, she is a jewel!

“Perhaps she will be pleased with us!

Ah, Goddess of flesh, we will open the iron

doors for her: sing, feast and dance:

“Although you among me, lack grace…!

“You are the skeleton dead, the dark entrails

of death—you shall bring her to deep

Sheol! Open up the gates of the graves

for her!

For who has gone down to the Dead

and returned, but one?

And all the demonic forces, the dead

Looked upon this one

With fear and fascination, like owls

Charmed by a serpent…

“This one is not a weak woman!

“She may thread the rage of the

squall,

“Quietness is all, take her at day

Let the Henchman of Hell, my

Trusted soldier, lead you; keep her

For four days, she will not know

From hour to hour…let her keep

Her sweet and passionate mind

Walk humbly…she will become

dwindled like a dying dog

And victory sudden!”

#3318 (4-6-2012)

Written for the Epic, “The Fifth Moon”

Moving Towards Death

Moving Towards Death

(A two part poem: for Easter, 2012) Part I

Blow the bones out of the hill:

I tell the dark long wind!

And the boulders bleed, resisting!

“No,” they say, “they are to stay!”

(they belong to death).

I hear the voice of death call:

“Souls grow old, you must run

before the voyage is ruined…”

I have no tongue (I remain silent)

He bellows: “Count your blessings!”

Deep in the dark bones of Death

rests—a lulling of spheres!—

and the last blessing

(this too belongs to Death).

Summer is nearly over, and

the days lack song—

more thinner are the hours…

As I sit and write this poem

(on the second day Christ lay in his tomb).

#3320 (4-7-2012)

Second Dawn

(A two part poem) Part II

Death is meek as dew:

but when he comes, he comes like a wolf!—

Lay in grace, sleep well,

as the world falls, of blood!

Now Death is a fox, he hides behind rocks:

Throw sand in his eyes,

For tomorrow Christ will rise.

#3321 (4-7-2012)

The Astonishing Rock

The moon is more than a dead rock in the

sky—

It’s an astonishing site for inspiring

Einstein’s—

All one needs to do is push it a little too far

to the right

or a little too far to the left—

to find this out—: God forbid!

#3319 (4-17-2012)