When the sun is out of sync
out of lock step, out of rhythm,
when water does not cool,
sun does not warm,
and sunflowers forget to reach
up, tiptoe to god and songs silent;
when salmon rush down river
down river down river
desperate for an end,
straight into the arms,
and mouths of Great Browns -
crushing spines, crushing pain -
(where is my consoling crush, my Great Brown?)
languidly I try to breathe you in
but you are gone - and for the first,
and like a child
morning scares me; I'm afraid
of what sunrise will feel like on my skin
without yours, warm, on mine.
Sorry.
So, sue me.
I'm trying to write 75 words a day each day in April
it's the 12th, and it doesn't take a genius to see that I'm about 825 words short.
W.S. Merwin got me thinking about this. I reviewed his comments about Ezra Pound - about writing 75 words each day - that's all you have to do to be a poet.
But you have to have something to write about. Hmmmm.....
Anyway, translation was the next thing. I do that - to gain something to write about. And not only in Spanish, but I translate Italian poetry - and that is useful - getting rhythm of words in three languages, and to increase my understanding and ease in three languages.
So, mi dispiace...you'll have to put up with this for about 1,350 more words...this hurts me more than it hurts you ---honest. Just know, te voglio bene, and April 30 is not too far in the distance.
Don't blame Mr. Merwin, but do check out the video links....great stuff.
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