poems_from_ginu

Insanity

What is insanity?
I heard today that the democrats
are funding the "War" for another 70 billion
that is insanity
I heard somewhere that we are totally at odds
with nature and ourselves
that is insanity
I heard that we are doing very little
to change our ways
to combat the heating of the world
that is insanity
the lack of trains, and no project in sight
to build new lines
that is insanity
I heard that O.J Simpson is writing a book
all about the murders of his wife Nicole
and Ron Goldman, the innocent young man
caught in this mayhem
in a deal made through the House of Murdoch
that is insanity
winter boots selling for more than a thousand dollars
that is insanity
magazines weighing a ton because of too much advertising
that is insanity
the way we kill animals to aliment our food industry
that is insanity
the chrismas tree already standing at Rockefeller Center
cut in its full majestic beauty
more than a month before the christmas deadline
that is insanity
and trees cut by the thousands
their deaths symbolized by the death of this unique tree to celebrate this holy day
that is insanity
nature denuded
man destituted
that is total insanity

Spring Breeze

Everything around me is in a felicitous commotion
the trees whose bent branches
move in slow motion
the ivy leaves whose flutterings along the fence
refresh the garden like a running brook
the bigger trees hardly move keeping their steady stance
but still they shudder slightly
against their will
others. shorter, shake violently
warding what is for them a violent attack
the lilac tree trembles from within
then suddenly stops trembling                                                                                       
to be again overcome by a feverish flutter
in contrast the pine trees shake  with dignity
a small red tree throbs under a spell
its red, yellow, green, orange leaves
effervescent in a symphony of atonal colours
the rose tree, around the corner, most roses gone
offers a few staunch petals which refuse to fall
against the sudden wisps of wind
the lower creatures, plants near the ground
refuse to move except for a tremor which stir their tops
secure in their lowly positions near the earth.
The umbrella above
flutters sporadically
its hanging flaps spelling incongruous Italian words
in and out of my vision "Modelo Especial"
while turning upon itself around the table
like a carousel
every tree, plant, bush, object free from its winter's grey
the avocado tree so thin among its stronger neighbors
whips around in a youthful happy dance
finally, liberated from its usual winter place
like we all are finally.

The Sun

Now I seek the sun
When not long ago
I hid from it with disdain
And fatigue
But forever the birds have loved the sun
They sing to it in day long inspired refrains
The flowers have soaked its heat                                                                  
Immobilized in a trance
The insects still buzzing in its golden emanation the trees have spread their heights                                                                      
Growing towards this source of light                                                                         
The running ivy across my window                                                                           
Sped mightily to reach the sun's generous glow                                                            
Tight against the wall
Year after year the worship has taken place                                                                
Even stones change their nature from cold to hot
Shy spiders have let the sun
Shine on their hidden weavings
Which the sun transforms into diamonds
And now I sit in the sun
Like a salamander myself
Accumulating its heat for colder days

Sat 13 May 2006

picture in black & white

a woman stretched taut
her uplifted elbows framing her hidden face
which is thrown backward
at first glance she seems to be in great pain
supplicating for the pain to stop
screaming with her body
the pain of her existence hurting my heart
but eventually I came to see her differently
the picture: black and white
I love black and white pictures
one side white, the other dark gray
the woman is photographed against the white background
she is standing right next to the gray shadow
as if she just came out of it
dressed in a black gym suit
the straps tight against her shoulders
the face unseen
the neck stretched
a dancers body
but now I see
a woman stretched with pleasure
stretched with ecstasy
expressing in a burst of vitality
clearly now I see
a woman expressing one great moment of joy in her own body

The warming of the earth after the primal explosion (part I )

I wonder why it is so warm in winter
unsettling spring day in january
fooling the insects at times of mating
whose offspring die
birds also confused
spring, a week earlier than earlier generations
in its wake, changes the earth.
spring fever in late winter
love coming too soon
the buds coming out in my garden
to be covered by a record snow storm 

The Sheep

The other day, a working day
Looking out into the street
From a window at work
Right there, in front of me
I saw grouped in a small flock
A few very white, very wooly
Fluffy sheeps, as one sees, in the fancy pictures of the Nativity
They were waiting patiently on the sidewalk
For their trainer busy talking to his work-buddies
There they stood looking at the window
While people walked by in a hurry
I stood mystified
There they were, so calm
Indifferent but yet aware of everything around
the cars whizzing by
the mammoth trucks parking near
People dashing across the street
In search of a quick lunch
While others nearby, in small groups
Close to doorways smoking cigarettes
Talked to each other in futile words
To pass the time of day
I stood there
Transfixed
Into a small child, me a little girl
Living on a farm long ago
Living alone among strangers
Seeking refuge and warmth soul warmth
In the stables touching the sheep, caressing their fur
Comforted by their presence.
And that day, a working day,
Looking out the window at the sheep
Soul comforted once again,
Among strangers

Spaces

When I look around, alone in my home
My eyes with my spirit
Go to the objects around me
The cupboard in the kitchen simple drawers hold
Apart from my folded linens
Thirty years of my life:  children's fingers,  children's ears listening to music
Adolescents looking to the sunshine through the windows
Or grey winters with raincoats and galoshes
Also grey rooms, bright corridors.
The sideboard still standing here near another window
Its dark redwood
a pleasure to touch
an echoing look
started under a mirror-
The yellow table quietly my companion
books, letters, near by
in bright sunshine or midnight solitude
mellowing my loves
holding through the years
a series of papers, notebooks
addresses, lists, to do, not to do
words written and lost
beginnings and endings
now shadows in the bed.
The bed itself so old
has held me shaken with desire or spent by illness.
The lamp brought with me as if it were Alladin's lamp
my circle of light through darkness of times
She above me  giving her attendance to my agony.
Old bookshelves bearing my treasures
like soldiers they stand in rows
barriers for my inner safety.   G.

quotes from a french poet translated

I follow the line of the moldings which follows that of the ceilling ........ But there are angles from which one cannot escape. Comment from translator: "Yet even in this prison there is peace. In these angles the dreamer would appear to enjoy the repose between being and non-being. He is the being of an unreality. G.

Again Butterfly

butterfly means beauty

White butterfly purity

Flying butterfly opportunity

Drinking butterfly delicate appetite

Butterfly zigzaging freedom or a fiesta

Kissing butterfly sensual love

One lonely flight along the street  adventure

Leaving butterfly beautiful indifference.

Continuation of White Butterfly

I know it is not the same one
on a visit to the garden
many times I have
seen a little white butterfly
this one stopping here and there
with a seemingly random touch
quickly pausing on a very tall plant and leaving it
to fly around and around
from wild fuzzy weed
to dead purple early spring flowers
landing on a leaf
while ignoring the delicate pink
blossoms there by the hundreds
marvelous nectar cups to my eyes
but to his,  lush, light purple poisoned drinks.
Now he has flown away
leaving me - with the shadows
of birds passing overhead
in complete solitude