QUIERO HABLAR CON LA OLA Hola, mi ola. Que pasa? Es verdad — aqui no hay muchachas? (Hay playas, hay pelotas.) Puedo empujar diez pelotas. Puedo visitar diez playas. Si, si… Es verdad — aqui no hay muchachas? Mi muchacha! Mi Isabel fue a llevar las olas alli. Alli, no hay madres. by Therese L. Broderick NOTE: I am starting to study Spanish. With the few Spanish words that I now know, I attempt this poem.
VISIT TO DA CI’EN TEMPLE [revision #32] Someone has rested a bamboo broom within the split trunk of an old tree. Long whisks tied flat with red string — like sticks of incense ready to be lit. I rest too, sitting on a bench in the monks’ courtyard, fanning my brow. Tomorrow will this broom sweep away sun-warmed twigs and petals? or brush cool puddles of rain down to the garden? I wish for a breeze. I wish for songbirds flocking to brooms. by Therese L. Broderick NOTE: I intend… Read more Month 5:18 “Visit to Da Ci’en Temple” →
