of planes and pasts

I wake to another migraine
they come like morning these
days as i combine two of the
elements that haunt me from a
childhood i fought to keep from
my own children…my demons:
moving and flying away alone
i fly away on Sunday in the middle of a move
but add to the mix my Dad dying
my little brother not anything little
any more is flying today and we
reminisce of our boarding school
past flying as little children on the
WWII surplus DC-3’s that were the
main transportation of our Brazilian
past the time my sister and i were
in the cockpit with the pilots when
they could not get the landing gear
down, how my father cried tears
when he put us on the rickety plane
by ourselves and we lost most of
our sense of permanent family
left to vacations and furloughs
to call home we return this week
from Florida, Virginia and Colorado
back to our roots before Brazil before
the war and the missionary zeal
back to the love of family to the
roots that made us strong enough
to endure the leavings, the losses
the opening of new worlds that made
us citizens of the Universe,
back to singing hymns
at the bedside of our loved ones
flying, circling, coming home to a strange land

Grief Loss and Black Holes


my throat gets raw
tears spill my belly growls
feel hell at my heels
only to sit in perfect
silence for ten minutes
until that unmistakable
peace comes oozing into
pores and bones forcing me to climb
out of a vast black hole
just as if it were only mud
filled and not a cosmic reversed star
sucking the life out of whatever holds
me in orbit like a reverse mortgage
changing the way of everything
leaving me cleaned out and ready to live again

A poem with no name

can’t read anymore horror stories
babies suffocating in painful deaths
what war crimes are we committing daily
standing silent with bombs in our hands
i’m digging deep for beauty the face of 255
tiny babies born every minute on this planet
soft faces to touch and souls to nurture they
come with the risk of the worst grief
i want neighbors to love and houses for all
i want peace like a river taking us away from
this lying bundle of uncivilised violent hate
i want love and kisses and dancing i want to give away
money and come again to the divine origin of life

Not Afraid of Dying

tuesday was the day

to get vaccinated so i

could hold our new grandboy

dreading the side affects

i entered the Montrose

County Health and Human

Services where it costs $40 instead

of Walgreen’s $64.99 i hate the

medical industrial complex and

don’t darken it’s doors except in

rare occasions like this, yes, as i dreaded

i got feverish and achy, so tired

everything i did required all my will power

but lying awake last night i wondered

if maybe i had actually gone there

to speak to the guy who was a diabetic

in a coma for ten days he said rather

die than go through that again which

started us talking about not fearing death

and i told him about my friend Silvana and

how she told me, I don’t believe in anything

after but if there is something i’ll come back

and let you know, which she did. as i got

up to get my shot he was smiling and we were

celebrating in a very small way our connection

to each other and everything forever in the universe

Light of the World for Maria Popova and all the lights

she speaks of Rilke and Rodin
and the letters to a young poet
that is in one of my most beloved
books passed on to me by Silvana
Cenci, my amazing sculptor friend
who used explosives to make her art
the concept of empathy she finds originated only
a century ago lies at the heart of my teaching
in the sixties from a great man and my beloved
professor J.Whitney Shea and even her
text on Freud makes me remember my
years of the study of Psychology before i
decided it was an industry of ¨thera-pee and
thera-pists¨ her name is Maria Popova introduced
to me by a beloved artist, poet and friend
that is how these magical connections settle
into my being spurring me on when the poet´s
road gets too lonely and the night seems dark
and hard i remember all my foremothers and fathers
how they persevered through broken dreams and
though they sometimes cut off their own body parts
they left a legacy like a great neon sign to point us to the
Light of the World