yesterday sighs away


Climbing Along the River
William Stafford

Willows never forget how it feels
to be young.

Do you remember where you come from?
Gravel remembers.

Even the upper end of the river
believes in the ocean.

Exactly at midnight
yesterday sighs away.

What I believe is,
all animals have one soul.

Over the land they love
they crisscross forever.

Photo by Thirteen .J on Unsplash

love aflame


Love Poem
Donald Hall
When you fall in love,
you jockey your horse
into the flaming barn.

You hire a cabin
on the shiny Titanic.
You tease the black bear.

Reading the Monitor,
you scan the obituaries
looking for your name.

each mile


The right path
Jacques Prévert
At each mile
each year
old men with closed faces
point out the road to children
with gestures of reinforced concrete.


Le droit chemin
À chaque kilomètre
chaque année
des vieillards au front borné
indiquent aux enfants la route
d’un geste de ciment armé

Photo by rawpixel on Unsplash



The First Madrigal
Anna Swir
That night of love was pure
as an antique musical instrument
and the air around it.

as a ceremony of coronation.
It was fleshy as the belly of a woman in labor
and spiritual
as a number.

It was only a moment of life
and it wanted to be a conclusion drawn from life.
By dying
it wanted to comprehend the principle of the world.

That night of love
had ambitions.

The Second Madrigal
-Anna Swir
A night of love
exquisite as a
concert from old Venice
played on exquisite instruments.
Healthy as a
buttock of a little angel.
Wise as an
Garish as air
blown into a trumpet.
Abundant as the reign
of a royal Negro couple
seated on two thrones
cast in gold.

A night of love with you,
a big baroque battle
and two victories.

Thank You, My Fate
-Anna Swir
Great humility fills me,
great purity fills me,
I make love with my dear
as if I made love dying
as if I made love praying,
tears pour
over my arms and his arms.
I don’t know whether this is joy
or sadness, I don’t understand
what I feel, I’m crying,
I’m crying, it’s humility
as if I were dead,
gratitude, I thank you, my fate,
I’m unworthy, how beautiful
my life.

without someone


The World Is Not a Pleasant Place to Be
Nikki Giovanni
The world is not a pleasant place
to be without
someone to hold and be held by.

A river would stop
its flow if only
a stream were there
to receive it.

An ocean would never laugh
if clouds weren’t there
to kiss her tears.

The world is
not a pleasant place to be without

Photo by Jack Anstey on Unsplash

“big as the myth of origin”


Prayer to the Pacific
Leslie Marmon Silko
I traveled to the ocean


from my southwest land of sandrock
to the moving blue water

Big as the myth of origin.

pale water in the yellow-white light of

sun floating west

to China

where ocean herself was born.

Clouds that blow across the sand are wet.

Squat in the wet sand and speak to the Ocean:

I return to you turquoise the red coral you sent us,

sister spirit of Earth.

Four round stones in my pocket I carry back the ocean

to suck and to taste.

Thirty thousand years ago

Indians came riding across the ocean
carried by giant sea turtles.

Waves were high that day

great sea turtles waded slowly out

from the gray sundown sea.

Grandfather Turtle rolled in the sand four times

and disappeared

swimming into the sun.

And so from that time


as the old people say,

rain clouds drift from the west

gift from the ocean.

Green leaves in the wind
Wet earth on my feet

swallowing raindrops

clear from China.

Photo by elora manzo on Unsplash