In daring weather, I have stood
then traveled forward
into good.
Weather
Vehicles
There are three vehicles of life.
Time, Traverse, Mind
Time trains me efficiently from place to place.
Sit down and ride.
Traverse hikes me from mountain to valley.
Strap boots and struggle.
Mind passes me from ease to challenge.
Set a path and live it.
On Time,
everything is packed
into neat compartments.
I need only to sit and enjoy
one moment, one activity,
after another,
in orderly and peaceful fashion.
Admire a drawing.
Complete a crossword.
Write a story.
Take a photo.
Laugh at the television.
It is complete sentences. It is coffee time and naps.
In Traverse,
I have no place to lay my
bags.
I port them all on my back.
Memories, games, books, photos,
trivia, flashcards, hymnals,
all strapped to me.
I rarely have energy or
spare moments
to enjoy them because I am busy traversing.
It is hike and struggle,
breathe and move to shelter.
It is free until a storm appears.
However Mind
travels all roads,
rough, easy,
mysterious, and routine
and when well-oiled,
travels them steadily and fairly,
allowing enjoyment and
work when needed,
both in their turn.
It is hike, breathe, crossword, admire, write, nap, coffee, change, repeat.
The Palm
If you open your hand,
you will see
between your thumb and middle finger,
in that fleshy, muscle-y, dip,
you will see a spot
the size of the little me.
My spirit, my heart, my insides,
in concentrated, power form,
nestled, snuggled down
recharging.
I believe they call that the palm of the hand.
Do you mind?
Do you mind that I am resting here in the palm of your hand?
For Cristian
Oh boy. Sweet as pie.
Simple smile. Simple eyes.
Elegant movements
in my heart.
I smile directly
back at you–
never not at you.
Kiss you twice
and say, “Buona notte.”
Never belong
to you.
You and your bella,
bella ragazza marry.
I, a Minnesotan.
Thank you immensely
for your sweet and simple
kindness,
easy, welcoming spirit–
for the tossle of my hair.
Oh sweet boy.
The Mountains of Italy
steep yet wide
green and gravely
peppered with pecora
flies and pizzi grass
open to heaven
reaching down to earth
filled to the brim
with lampone and mora
waves of sunshine and wind
thudding children’s feet
drizzling fountains
whistling old men
an occasional camione
a family van
dottore’s ferrari
sounds below on the highway
these are the mountains of Italy
Calm Ocean Day
Today, the ocean is calm.
Despite its vastness,
despite its responsibilities,
despite the storms it has endured,
today, the ocean is calm.
Today, the ocean is resting
under a silky duvet over a
down comforter.
With sea creatures sleeping,
today, the ocean is resting.
“Shoosh, trickle, shoosh,”
I sigh a restful sigh, too,
as the boat passes through
this calm ocean day.
“Shoosh, trickle, shoosh.”
It is memorable when the wide, unpredictable, often irrational ocean is calm.
You will talk about that day again.
Beauty Accompany Me
Beauty begins in the heart.
Stay close to me, beauty.
Remain in my heart.
Move through me, beauty.
Grow in my heart.
Envelope me, beauty.
Capture my eyes.
Show me, beauty.
Take prisoner my mouth.
Speak clearly, beauty.
Soften my hands.
Work uprightly, beauty.
From my youth till my death
Beauty accompany me.
-Naphtalia
Immaculate
I thought of you today
overwhelmed with tears
at the beauty of the garden
perfectly trimmed, formed, tilled
I thought of you–
a mess
How neat and trim we are at birth
How slaught-upon with muck
of worldly corruption, ideas,
philosophies, moments
Mud building up on the
once-clean skin of our
souls
Boh. (I have no idea.)
Away, away
to wash away the slimely
crawly, worm-invested
mud.
No grub of this mud will do you any good.
Please go clean up
Wash yourself in a cleansing river
a good old seven times.
-Naphtalia
Stepping Forward
I keep stepping forward.
Even when the gloomy chairs
of resignation call to me.
They call,
“Resign to the fact that you are alone. Let your flesh revel in the selfishness available to you.”
Even so,
I keep stepping forward.
Step, step, step, step, step…
Naphtalia 