Friday, November 9, 2012

First November Selection, 2012

All my life I've walked
as if hiding in the wood
      I do it well

This morning I realized all
the creatures who've come
                 to me

Know this hidden walk
just because it is so

They wait to watch and see
if this human is also a

--Joyce Pointe

for Ali

"You need something to love," I say.
Her wide, wary eyes, that I love, her heart full
Of tears. A kitten, a child, a community. Something.
Not to love you, but to love. We sit together
In the old Bullring, now a shopping Mall,
Sipping cortados where blood dripped
Or ran in rivulets of cruel pleasure
In the days of the Dictator.

In the old city, a Korean tourist smells like sweet alcohol.
The medieval maze of old Barcelona confounds.
The map she proffers speaks a language
Of figures and forms, delicate, but indecipherable to me.
Her English is a tiny bird chirps,
Selected, necessary words, "Help?"
"Lost." We say yes because we can–
And, because she is so young, so lost and a little drunk,
Possessing simple, syllables of European language,
Her optimism and innocence the only treasure she offers.

So, so vulnerable, like my daughter who feels so alone.
But the tourist knows "Thank you",  says it over and over
As we pass the ancient cellars
Of the ugly Inquisition and the shadowed alleys
Populated by ghosts. No need for Thank you.
The gift is the giving. Finally delivered,
Her key fits an unfamiliar lock,
She hugs, I bow. Thanks enough given the chance
To care. This kitten of a child, lost, like my own
Who needs only to love to be found.

--Rebecca del Rio

Third Selected November Poem 2012

By The Way, It's Delicious
I look into my bag of tricks
To find a treat both bitter and sweet
Both are needed to balance the doshas
Too much of either and the flavor is wrong
So I grab a handful of bitter
That seems to be more
Than what I would normally think delicious
My fear that the dish so full
Of expensive quality organic ingredients
Is at risk of being spoiled and uneatable
Season, temperature and need of body
Do affect the sense of taste
Sometimes too much is just right
Sometimes just enough is too much
And sometimes
Too little is enough to get by
So I lift my fork to my lips
To taste the fruits of my labors
And decide that I only need
To please my own tongue


Fourth and Fifth November Selected Poems 2012

El Alcalde Visits:
And looks to see
Where time
In its infinite 
Parade of moments
Has gone
Oh well
An anxious state of mind
Will obliterate stars

--Richard Velez

Full dying grass moon
High tide waves breaching seawall
Firewood crackles
--Tom Snow