divergent diversion

"The mind gets distracted in all sorts of ways.

The heart is its own exclusive concern and diversion."

― Malcolm de Chazal

Eastbound

upward and onward
goes the sun turning west

and so do I ― incessantly pulled
in the opposite direction
by the stone of the earth
and the depth of a restless heart

toward the sun's inchoation
the nacre of havoc
where a phoenix rises

Bugambilia

"Recordar: To remember; from the Latin records,

to pass back through the heart."

― Eduardo Germán María Hughes Galeano

from The Book of Embraces

Tender embrace

In the fresh snow :

snow-fresh sight

through an open heart

Fractal [e]scapes XIII ― Stone of Heart

Burnt-out light bulb

_ _ _

Lips that spell secrets

Beware these lips! They speak [of] deep secrets.
For there is a cryptic hint in the name
I once was given to ― Tanya : tayna, тайна (secret). 

I cast my prayers in hot stone
toss them in the well at dawn, to be answered by the age-
old callings of your heart, my dearest
in one extraordinary sacramental offering ―
a thousand sizzling kisses, eternity long[ed].

Now. Here.

Then one day, just like that
and seemingly out of order,
a gust of pixie dust blows your Universe
open ― a space at a sacred place
in your heart, in your mind
conjure old new wor[l]ds
from the solace of nowhere ―
a promise, in now here.

                                                (just like that)
                                                In a brave instant.

Counting time

This road ends at the old sea-

wall wedged beyond the possibility

of going any further. The options left

are to fly, swim/drown, or turn back

seek the mountain. There is an uneasy

sense of sinking when surrounded by water.
Perhaps all endings feel that way.

The hourglass broken open(

Tumultuous winds and high seas

have smashed it against the age-

old battered shores. Time languishes

present, and equally absent here.
Its vague pulse counted by the dying waves

counter-intuitive to one's heart,

lost to a sense of direction.

There are roughly ten-thousand grains

of sand in a handful, sometimes enough

to measure an entire minute of life.
Trickling now between my fingers.

In seconds.

_ _ _

hearts of oblivion

walnut shells

isn't it so, that

when a sharp knife
is wedged

at the soft tip of a walnut-

 shell splits open with ease

to be scooped out

and sate a savage need

then the hollow half-
shells fill quick 
with palpable nothingness

an emptied heart

tossed in the stove

to feed the fire

home[land] bound

home[land] bound:

soon time will collapse by ten-

fold itself into a paper plane

wings gliding weightless
on earth's crisp breath

high above the Atlantic

over the ribs of memory
and rolling mountain hills
take me down to the flip-side

of reality

and the heart of the matter -

to you my dearest

mother, i am coming home
to be reborn

window-shopping XXIII: La Catrina

"tactics and strategy"

"mi táctica es
mirarte
aprender como eres
quererte como eres
. . . 
mi táctica es
quedarme en tu recuerdo
. . . quedarme en ti"

- Mario Benedetti
from "Táctica y estrategia"

my tactic is to look at you

to learn how you are

love you as you are

my tactic is to talk to you

and listen to you

and construct with words

an indestructible bridge

my tactic is to stay in your memory

i don't know how

nor with what pretext

but stay within you

my tactic is to be honest

and know you are too

and that we don't sell each other illusions

so that between us there is no curtain or abyss

my strategy instead is

deeper and simpler

my strategy is that some day

i don't know how nor with what pretext

that finally you need me

- Mario Benedetti
translation by Chris Kraul

post # 1001

buck moon gazing

"we ran as if to meet the moon" - Robert Frost

crisp winter dreams

torchlight

lucky charms

hearts and lanterns