poetry

when the land was wild

when the land was wild

había otra vez
in a thin country
bound by sea and spines
where ghost ships sailed
and sirens still sang
a race of tiny deer
the size of tomcats
with delicate antlers
spotted sides
and rounded bottoms

había otra vez
in the pure rushing waters
turquoise white and green
a cat of the river
half a man’s size
playful and inquisitive
its sensitive whiskers ever active
and its cheeks always stretched
into a grinning half smile

había otra vez
in the dark forest
where spiderwebs were like stairsteps
ascending into sky
an impossibly grand woodpecker
so brilliant when it landed
the alerce trees ignited
and it dripped sparks
across the beings of this country

of course
this was all in a different time
far younger than now
when the land was still wild
and the legends were true
now all we feel is absence
the cold shadow of loss
where warm flesh once was

Uncategorized

Leap Day

Leap Day

the leftover fragments of other years
cobbled together
to make an impulsive day
beyond the capability
of my wristwatch to reconcile

what did we pour into
this freebie grabbag of hours?

a luminous sunrise
over islands over water
firing the wood paneling
of our little cabin

watching penguins from our breakfast
of warm rolls dotted with butter
melting to pools

looking for pudús (always)

watching metallic green hummingbirds
zip from fuchsia to pine bough

rambling down the beach path
to join the penguins on the water

taking in the black and white
volcanoes across the way
that mark the continent’s spine

entering the blue white yellow
Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de Chonchi
watching the stars wink
above a sea of incense and prayers

coming into Queilén, a warm haven
where the sea can sing to you
and the moon is tipped
in an unfamiliar way

every day is an uncertain gift
each date one that might never arrive
but some are imbued
with a bit more magic
sometimes we have the sense
to savor the day’s passing
before regret can even rise

poetry

adolescent boys

adolescent boys

slowly I must remove
the stones from their eyes

how to do this with kindness and patience
not panic and shock?

one by one
I reveal the world’s wounds

trying to balance each truth
with a modicum of sunlight

trying to remain
someone they’ll speak to without squirming

trying to prepare them
for the brutality they can’t close their eyes to

trying to remind them
their choices can change our path

trying to teach them
the joy of being gentle
even in a violent world