Accidentally Bilingual

From an early age, I believed that when I grew up, I would live in Europe. My uncles had emigrated to Spain when they were very young, my great-grandparents had come from Italy, and parts of my family were scattered across the United States and Australia.In my imagination, I had no clear idea of what…

V

I wish you could know the scent of my summers,  How the sea foam’s colors shift with the passing hours, The sound of waves crashing against the pier And the echo of shells. The texture of resin on pine bark, The slippery surface of eucalyptus leaves, Soak by rain. The southeast winds, the fallen trees,…

IV

Hugging you feels like stepping into a quiet place, A winter garden. The warmth of your arms feels just right enough To sustain the life of any creature. Have you ever rescued a bird fallen from its nest? In your city, is there a moment in the afternoon When it feels like every soul has…

III

We can also share a garden,we can pretend it’s only ours,as long as it’s springand we enjoy the cherry’s blossom. We can lie to ourselves, craft a story where we’ve tended it,rejoice.

Loving language

I I don’t know your language well enough to share a secret. II I spent so much time alone with myself that I created a loving language I’ve shared with no one. III You kiss my hands, I sink into your chest seeking to drown out the noise of the word. IV We dance that…

I

My bare feet rest   cool on the river’s slope   I wish the water would rise   I wish   you’d come closer and kiss me   and in this moment   the sun would make us   close our eyes   If now, for instance,   the sailboats paused to watch us   if the water rose up to soak me   if our…

The mess we leave behind

Clearly, it’s easier to leave the mess behind and move on. It’s not our first time, we’ve done it before. This time, we take it far away… I could leave myself behind like a snail or a snake. My skin becomes thinner, stained by the passage of time and friction. Every time we move, I…

When does a move begin?

Personally, when I seek a new home, I envision myself living in it. For months, I inhabit an invisible, imaginary space. Luminous, where everything seems simpler, and I don’t collide with any edges. I’ve always been interested in observing the behavior of others. A few years ago, I offered my home to some friends, It…

Every poem is a forecast

Sea birds skirt the mountain range, the mass of shrubs ripples like a dense wave. A bell-less church remains unaltered, the wind is named in various ways. Every poem is a forecast and in any case, never something stationary. Have you ever seen a spider’s web after the rain? Some surfaces feel better beneath bare…

Aspirations

I always want to be someone else and when I write to myself, I hope not to understand me later, to blur myself. Someone could whisper to get lost. To get lost never to be found. To lose oneself not in madness, in a brightness as bright as a white room without corners, without depths….