loyalty among cranes

•March 23, 2012 • Leave a Comment

they could not even fathom to leave anyone behind
they are patient with their young

they carried their wounded
they share a fragile fate of legs like sticks

they are brothers and sisters

everyone belongs to the same sky
and every name counts

their roll calls are thorough
even a failed pirouette deserves applause

the bone of it

•March 3, 2012 • Leave a Comment

the males get on each other’s beaks

cranes can get very political during elections

thinking that this will impress their women

 

the female simply stands

her long leg firm on the ground

 

even when the eggs break and the children have flown away

 

her long leg rising from the ground

all the way to the heart

 

the leg

the bone of it

cranes of buenos aires

•February 18, 2012 • Leave a Comment

in buenos aires when they are in love
cranes put their wings around each other’s waist
and dance the tango like it was their last day on earth

you should see them perched on the cadence of their passion
the way their feathers almost glow in their stillness
and how their cheeks press softly against each other

when the music ends and every car lights up the sky
of buenos aires only the warm shell of their hatched eggs
tells you that love south of the equator is an endangered specie

graceful and fragile
un tango pájaro

why cranes dance

•February 16, 2012 • Leave a Comment

i think of their thin legs and wonder
what strong conviction might have them
stand up without the smallest hint of justification
for how they’ve chosen to live their lives

such feathered bodies suspended on stilts!
such disregard for what we may be thinking of them!

the sign states that their dance is part of mating
i think they dance because they learned to love themselves

an ethics of love among birds

•February 15, 2012 • 1 Comment

to stand on legs so thin is an act of heroism
perhaps that’s why they’re born with wings

but to love is to mate
and to mate is to stay and
to stay is to elect the dignity of staying

it all comes down to choosing
where your life is meant to hatch

choosing the risks
choosing your thin legs

poemas para mamá

•January 24, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Life, as always, has a way of keeping you, pulled away from things as considering your birth. I flew to Cincinnati, and had but few thoughts about the day.

As I reflect back on this business of being born, the gift of being alive, the honor of being on this earth, I think of my moher who gave me life. She was either the whole maker of my being or the decision of some destiny that made her the guardian of my spirit.

The next four poems are in her honor.

the wish

•January 24, 2012 • Leave a Comment

i dreamt my mother was alive

and young again

buenos aires in the fifties

sitting at the beauty parlor

getting her hair done

she’s happy

it’s saturday and she’s happy

i dreamt she is as young and i am old

I remember

nodding at her

and that she smiled

i remember i only wished the best for her