change, illuminations

You are free to choose

What is to be done with this new
opening and widening of time,
arriving again on the innocence of choice,
and the violence of loss after.
Like finishing a race she
accidentally entered and won,
and could not care for the prize.
Maybe there will be Greece again,
the guardian of the Tomato museum
who sat motionless and calm
in the face of forgotten histories.
Or a cabin in New England,
its streams covered with sheets of calm,
hiding the madness underneath.
When every direction is equal and fair,
choosing also means abandoning.
Today, she begins with her temporary
manufactured contentment, books of poetry,
sunshine and an empty page.
Which shape will this ink take,
she wonders as the river begins to flow.


Another world

In a parallel universe, where I’d sit next to you reading Steinbeck
you’d blink your eyes open and shy away from the sun,

Its relentless the Indian sun, you’d take my book and cover your face with it,
In a parellel universe you’d like Steinbeck.

That is to say, you’d like words, the sheer romance of them,
the song words that I love so much, you’d like them in meter and rhyme.

In a parallel universe, you’d read poetry to wake me up,
and we’d spend the day lost in Nerudas and Cummings

You’d love my books and smell them with equal passion,
perched on a windowsill, in a parallel universe,

you’d understand my verse.