Old man by the sea -v2

The man looks stranded

by the big black sea.

The salt gets caught in his beard,

the wind carves his face.

This is his daily life.

The oil does not get lighter.

The steps do not get fewer.

The climb seems higher,

but he continues to work.

His solitary job is guarding

the beacon of light.

Night after night,

and all the same during the day,

he works.

His achievement

is keeping the ships clear

of shallow waters

and treacherous sands.

His success is defined

when nothing happens.

The ships pass

and never suffer

what might have been.

There is no reward

for what does not happen,

no one to thank him

for the wreck that never was,

only the small hope

that with every ship

that sails safely on,

he pushes his chance.

Joana - chat

 Joana your name is red

And sharp like a Toledo blade

Your long skirt makes the wind twirl

On a summer evening walk

By the side of the sea

Calling for breeze

Joana your walk wants to turn into dance

At the sound of your laughter

Your words into chocolate and mangoes

And a whole tropical forest could grow

Under the rain of your love

So love Joana for the joy of this world

As if ships carrying spices

Had finally come to port

Joana

Joana your name is red

And sharp like a Toledo blade

Your long skirt makes the wind twirl 

On a summer evening walk

By the side of the sea

Calling for breeze

Joana your walk wants to turn into dance

At the sound of your laughter

Your words into chocolate and mangoes

And a whole tropical forest could grow 

Under the rain of your love

So love Joana for the joy of this world

Like the ships carrying wonder

Have finally come to the port

Riding the Bus Across Borders

The bus will reward you
With a tight company of people,
Short-range and short-term interactions,
And the occasional verbal explosion
When crossing a hole or bump
Or a difficult border.

The lights and the stops,
The necessary and long-awaited
Bathroom stops,
Mark the trip’s regular flow
And highlights:
Sandwiches and sodas,
The coffee the driver needs
To keep up his eyelids.

The songs undulate
With the road,
Their loud melodrama
Becoming the soundtrack
Of this temporary company,
Long after we have forgotten
The border cops,
Their stressful tricks,
The fears.

And we laugh
At the swear words
As the driver moves forward,
Piercing the night.

And we wake up
To light,
To the expectation of oranges,
The familiar road dust,
The road lying mellow
Through olive orchards
white buildings and rocks

Nathaniel

 Nathaniel your name

Sounds mellow and soft
Smells like sandalwood and musk
And just a little cigarette smoke

Nathaniel but your name
Rides on a Harley
And flies a red and yellow bandana
In the burning summer wind

I find no way to thank you
For the quiet bravery
To do the right thing
No matter the cost

Your smile Nathaniel
Melts icebergs
But your laughter causes avalanches
So your walk is restrained

As you walk through the gardens of Eden

So you push through the tempting desert

You think the millions of flowers

hiding under the sand

Remember, Nathaniel, if you cry,
these tears hold the promise
of saving rain
and restoring the balance.

Orb - chat

 The first time I met you,

I could see the potential you held
within your soul—
a perfect orb.

There was a thin layer of ice
and the sound of wind
blowing snow,
but I thought it was gently falling,
and the ice would melt
if I held the orb
for a while
in my hand.

So I reached out,
and the orb spun
wonderful stories
for a while,

giving birth to butterfly moments
flying into the sun,
shaping the world in all colors.

And the orb sang
on all frequencies—
a little song for every day,
enough sweetness to bridge
cold nights
and whole seasons.

And now that the orb
sits quiet, I wonder
how long until spring.

And I wonder
how many dreams
it still holds,
and what wonders
it will birth
if I held it again
in my hand.

Orb

First time I met you

I could see the potential you hold 

Within your soul 

A perfect orb

There was a thin layer of of ice

And the sound of wind blowing

Snow but I thought it was gently falling

And the ice will melt if I held

The orb in my hand for a while

So I did reach out and the orb

Spun wonderful stories 

For a while 

Giving birth to butterfly moments

Flying into the sun

Shaping the day in all colors

And singing on all frequencies 

A little song for every day

Enough sweetness to bridge 

Over cold nights 

And seasons whole

And now that the orb 

Sits still I wonder

How long until spring

And I wonder

How many dreams

It still holds

And what wonders

Will it birth

If I held it again

In my hand .

The geometry of joy v2

 The geometry of joy

involves networks,

nodes of unequal gravity
connected by colorful bonds.

The geometry of joy involves pathways
where truth switches sides,

from top to bottom,
through repeating loops.

The geometry of joy—

you get to define its boundaries
or explode them

into superbly expanding universes.

The geometry of joy

The geometry of joy

involves networks,

with more and less important nodes

connected by colorful bonds.

The geometry of joy involves pathways

where truth switches sides,

from top to bottom,

while sliding smoothly into loops.

The geometry of joy—

you get to define it,

setting its boundaries

or exploding them

into superbly expanding universes.

Time

 She was looking for time

But whenever she glanced at her wrist 

And what was wrapped around

All I she could see

Were Swarovski crystals 

In shade of blue