poem

black earth

That once I found mirrors
sprawled on the floor, and I
looked for the mountains
of my eyes.

There were many
but lightly had I
taken flecks of skin
to cover the mirrors;
that I wanted to see
no more my reflection
but only feel the caress
of silence,
it was about blood
that trickles like a mute river
around the architecture of bones.

An aura,
myriad of angles,
a hollow breeze trapped
but circulating from one
morsel to the next,
the opulent scattering
of cavities and memories.

I would never comprehend
the purpose but once
inside I could walk
counting the domes
of each mystery
like beads in a rosary.

I could even step upon
the slabs of shadow
for I was only
an invisible thought
measuring the joy
of the black earth.

Contemporary Poetry

earthliness

One drop
of
commonplace,
one drop
but completely
silent
within
empty engrossment.

A sole drip
of the mundane,
a trickle,
tingling
through
the minute
sense of being.

One gentle
course of earthliness,
a splash of it,
but soundless
echoing like
wings,
as a
boundless alleluia.

A speck
of prosaic,
a solitary
wandering
mote
concisely panoramic,
wordlessly grasped.

Contemporary Poetry

Travel: Here, is the clamor.

sound_of_india

Here, is the clamor.
Totality crackling.
I gather every seed of noise
as grains of rice
inside my cupped hands.
A nomad hymn has travelled
as a fantastic bird
through an atmosphere of time.
Its reflection is a worn
anatomy of ripples:
moving slowly like a full
moon pulsating on a lake’s surface.
The song and the silence
have become animals
savagely wrestling for
a piece of creation. I’m
watching their pristine
movements from a land
where gods sit next to
man, woman and child;
where we all sit
rapt and perplexed
by the howl of the light
and the course of silence.
This is a land where even the gods
confess not knowing their origin;
much less the nest
from which the primal rhythm took flight.

Contemporary Poetry

Travel: I see a man praying

I see a man praying

I see a man praying.
He’s begging, worshiping,
believing. I see a man that wants
to disappear from this world of weight;
I see a man that pleads to blend,
to unite, to be one with the absolute
meaninglessness. I see a man praying
inside a Hindu temple – speaking words
that only he hears and yet he is able
to convert this sight of flesh to fragrance,
from bone to beatitude, from blood to blossom.
I see a man waving to his idol and I keep walking
towards the heart of the jungle.

Contemporary Poetry

art and time

History is a duel between art and time.
– Will Durant

art_and_time_Poetry_in_21st_century

Allow me
to carve
my strange vision
in your interior

let me turn
your feelings
into marble
shinning inside
my hidden truth

allow me to build
from your essence
the columns
to a new cathedral
where I will sit
to sing my memory

one day I hope
to be remembered
as the artisan that painted
the landscape of your soul
with the aurora of a dream

perhaps
this poem
is already a relic
of our brief encounter
crumbling on your tongue

crumbling like the rock
that was once art
but now becoming dust
for time’s wind.

Contemporary Poetry

cosmology

I see a wall and it is a blink
between two explosions
I contain
the thick blankness of thought
as my only faith;
ergo I cry
and become
shriveled like
the dry pain that
floats like a memory;
I see silence
like a color
like a flame
like a muscle
that bends the stars,
I don’t care
being absorbed
like a wave of frequency,
I must be nothing
glancing at the faint
enormity of life.