a petrel . . .
nada
nada importa
nothing matters
evil has won
the worst did happen
but we survived
and hide happily
trying to find the others
find a way to peace and life
for future generations out
of sheer love
find the others
web a web
against the forces of the violent
and beautiful nature itself
pulling us back to the soil we are
nothing matters
but those are just words
a conscience is the most secret bird
housed next to a quiet window in the back
of our body
evil won
so we are forgiven
for our idiocy as mother nature
will hold us in outer space one day
away from gravity and earth
her bosom as to a baby
nada en un río tibio
swim like a petrel flying underwater
Leaf on Water
we nap in grass while birds chirp.
later we lounge to rain at the open window
with incense, wax, and lime rinds
at sunset, descend the trapdoor
into the colonnade chamber
through which a river flows,
wade the shallow water—
carp rest above the mosaic
of no God’s face.
the last sunlight fills the chamber
and sinks into the river.
we are so quiet we
blend with the walls
