The sailor goes ashore.
the night in the hallway paled into a yellowish screen
showing a black movie, 1963
A time machine of memories sent him back to the years
to meet people long since gone.
A family at the dinner table of people he knew too well
the shadow of his 125 years old father was not there
nectar drinking Colibri exotic as Christmas present never received, the one in the toy shop, a red firetruck
with wooden wheels
And he, the son of the oldest man in the world, had gone to sea, and when he returned, nothing was as remembered, differently by the people around the table
A lacuna of missed years, a distance that was unbridgeable whenever he came home, a stranger silent
augmenting the gap filled with politeness.
They had known and seen him grow to adulthood, but his character remained a mystery, sitting in the living room.
They were related to him and knew he would leave soon.
A nurse gently touched his shoulder are you awake?
Yes, mother, I'm home from the sea.
Ashore at last
The night in the hallway paled into a yellowish screen
showing a black movie, ca 1963
A time machine of memories sent him back to the years
to meet people long since gone.
A family at the dinner table of people he knew too well
the shadow of his 125-year-old father was not there
nectar drinking Colibri exotic as Christmas present never received, the one in the toy shop, a red firetruck with wooden wheels
And he, the son of the oldest man in the world, had gone to sea, and when he returned, nothing was as remembered, differently by the people around the table
an ocean of missed years, a distance that was unbridgeable whenever he came home, a stranger silent
augmenting the gap filled with politeness.
They had known and seen him grow to adulthood, but his character remained a mystery, sitting in the living. room
somehow, they were related to him
they knew he would leave soon.
A nurse gently touched his shoulder,
you are awake?
Yes, my dear, I'm home from the sea.
Ashore at last
The night in the hallway paled into a yellowish screen
showing a black movie, ca 1963
A time machine of memories sent him back to the years
to meet people long since gone.
A family at the dinner table of people he knew too well
the shadow of his 125-year-old father was not there
nectar drinking Colibri exotic as Christmas present never received, the one in the toy shop, a red firetruck with wooden wheels
And he, the son of the oldest man in the world, had gone to sea, and when he returned, nothing was as remembered, differently by the people around the table
an ocean of missed years, a distance that was unbridgeable whenever he came home, a stranger silent
augmenting the gap filled with politeness.
They had known and seen him grow to adulthood, but his character remained a mystery, sitting in the living. room
somehow, they were related to him
they knew he would leave soon.
A nurse gently touched his shoulder,
you are awake?
Yes, my dear, I'm home from the sea.
The Mariner ashore
the night in the hallway paled into a yellowish screen
showing a black&white movie ca 1963
A time machine of memories sent him back to the years
to meet people long since gone.
A family at the dinner table of people he knew too well
the shadow of his 125 years old father, was not there
nectar drinking Colibri exotic as Christmas present never received, the one in the toy shop, a red firetruck
with wooden wheels
And he, the son of the oldest man in the world, had gone to sea, and when he returned nothing was as remembered, differently by the people around the table
A lacuna of missed years, a distance that was unbridgeable whenever he came home, a stranger silent
augmenting the gap filled with politeness.
They had known and seen him grow to adulthood, but his character remained a mystery, sitting in the living. room
somehow they were related to him, they knew he would leave soon.
A nurse gently touched his shoulder, are awake?
Yes, mother, I'm home from the sea
Home from the sea
The night in the hallway paled into a yellowish screen
showing a black& white home- movie ca. 1963
a memory time machine had sent him back to his years
of youth to meet people long since gone.
A family sat around a dinner table with people he knew.
His 125-year-old father was not there; he never was
a nectar-drinking Colibri, exotic as a Christmas present
never given, the one in a toy shop, a red firetruck with
wooden wheel.
And him? He had gone to the sea, and when he returned
it was not the same as before; a certain distance had
emerged after that whenever he came home
from the sea, the distance from them was ever wider.
They had known him as a boy but had not seen him grow.
He sat in the living room, rootless, a stranger they
Somehow were related and spoke politely to him
because they knew he would soon be leaving again.
A nurse shook him gently; are you awake?
Yes, mother, I’m home from the sea.
in a rapid wing
hovering even
slow motion
needs to be
slowed down
even the beating
needs to be set
from prestissimo
to larghissimo
Rimsky-Korsakov
tried to capture
the hummelflug
but this poem is
for the caliber of
the angelic colibri
Smiling slightly sad Colibri said:
'Are you happy today, my dear?
...
the garbage disposal
a smoothy for the sewer to swallow the brew
but are you ever coming back to the barn
for nestling to feed from a beak full of gnats
can we share a world you and me and share the seasons
the colibri looking for nectar I invite to slurp sugar
as the bumblebee is looking for colors and me for a pay check.
She walks amid flowers where I see
the blue jasmine and the white lily
bowing as she goes like a colibri
flipping her wings, laughing silly…
The wind enters, taking the scent away,
a thief we both, also invisible,
holding her waist, to kiss then to sway,
quoting a song found in a Bible.
When spring comes, she will leave there
and bloom anew, a bough in her hand
on head a garland and a quietly dare:
Would I obey love’s command?
Colibri (sonnet)
Beautiful colibri your fluttering wings
so rapid it looks like you are still in air…
drinking with your long sleek beak
forbidden nectar from the honey tree.
You fly from tree to tree care not who
you hurt with your purr of love.
Humming bird so lovely you are, totally
amoral, I will catch one day put you in
a cage, serve you sweet honey from a jar,
the one in the fridge with a picture of
a bee on, and you will buzz for me alone
till I set you free… if I ever do.
For I too need to hear the sound of love
and dream of being totally immoral.