Friday, September 1, 2017

The man from Apolo 15

In 1985, as he publishes
Entering Space: An Astronaut’s Odyssey
I entered kindergarten on my literary voyage
In another world, Votuporanga
He is Allen IV,
I, just the middle child

He entered as salt and pepper sprinkles
on our Friday lunch
At the heat of our discussion
about the ugly faucets
our darling husbands
decided to choose
with the plumber’s guidance...

Here, back on Earth,
As he entered retirement in 2004
from his exits to the moon
I was leaving my Earth
(besides being called a loon)

As life’s shuttle orbited
Around years in and out
As I entered the galaxy of marriage
the constellation of motherhood
the nebula of my accomplishments
our paths cross:

He enters the room
with a gaze of one
who’s seen the moon
With a cane, and a NASA pin
on the navy blue lapel

Still in pilot mode
strategic stops
and plenty nerdy jokes

I tell him skeptical
Are you sure you are an astronaut?
You should have been a comedian

He smiles and tell
yet another one about the burned church.
Holly smokes, I just met Joseph P. Allen IV! 

Washington, DC, Salt and Pepper Restaurant, lunch time with Etna Cantora and Andrea

Monday, August 28, 2017

My visit to you

Hi dear friend
darling of mine
sister of my heart

I visit you in thoughts
in prayers
in tears
but overall, thinking of you
I visit you in smiles

I come alone,
but in my soul
this building of past
present, tomorrow
this castle of sand
of diamonds
guarded by courage,
threatened by fears
I bring the world, the ones far and near

I come to see you
sweet window
to be surrounded by your caring light
to hear the wisdom of your music

I bring you flowers
petals of poetry
from life’s garden
fresh, organic
raw blades of green hope

I bring you a chair
not to seat, but to dance around

Put your dancing shoes,
Dance Aviva,
I came to visit, because when I do
who visits me is you!

To my friend Zahara Heckscher

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

The unexpected stop

The train is on time
on tracks, on days
up nights
Friction, sparks
little starlight
on the horizontal ladder
from here to there
To where?
On the cold ticket
printed defined destinations
Deranged train
Grabbing the tracks
tricking hearts
with the warmth you produce
but your essence is cold metal
Captive in your sits
the passengers
glued stiffs
so many ifs…
Cringe your silver teeth
moving skiff
Let me out
Set me free
Stop rushing me there
Open Sesame!
Untied hair
The golden treasure:
just dust
a day
thin air
from within the fountain
new words
as poetry pours
from every pore
in flair gush
and no more

Thursday, April 21, 2016

Tea party at five

Pink clouds
get out of my way
I must go, this is the day!
Silk or lace?
What shade?
Smart hat, pink or lilac?
It must be soft
as the words we must speak
as the cotton-candy sky
as the solemnity of the blooms
The sweet scented petals
caressing soft
as feathery touch on the ear lobe
Taffeta on the table
ancient thin porcelain cups
hand painted blue, glazed in history
There will be delicate little poetry
made of sugar and flower
fruits of delights on crystal towers
Silver reflecting the glorious afternoon
Little bits of hair escaping the golden pin
At five o’clock
I will be having tea with the queen
she will smile at my awkward courtesy
Her best Mona Lisa smile
and I will gaze into her eyes
as if gazing the stars
The tea pot will be boiling then
and I will steam
on the mystery of the sphinx
Will it be deciphered?
Or will she devour me?
Poise, softness, grace
on glass shoes
fly or break
tic tac
and I will keep the moment
on the iron chain of the memories
at the end I will complement her china
she will tell me I can keep it
and when I bow to say good bye
she will be gone
and I will start to weep
and break the cups, the teapot, the plate
and before I leave the gate
I shall have yet a new mosaic

To Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth II on her 90th Birthday

Wednesday, April 6, 2016

True love: Spring love

Hail Earth, lovely Earth
Love blossoms in spring forms
Chirping creatures, distant echoes
Rushing sounds of airplanes
Blue sky, the same sky
Always opalescent in quadratic seasons
Port foundations
Of the great journey, the enigma
Grasses swaddled in blankets of myosotis
Tiny blue boons
Fattening bumblebees
Distilling in honey the sweet indigo
If only love could come back this way…
Overflowing the heart
Impregnating minds
If we could only follow the way
As  birds do
Oh dear spring
Fecund bud called love
Birthing in nuances, fragrances, in colors
If only the glory of this spring
Could rapture souls, wash wars
We would once again wash on the river,
drink from  springs
Who knows then what would say
The promised twilight
To the distant horizon


In the name of the book
The book of face
On the face of the book
Liberty faces
Apex of humanity

Together congregated
In the temple of the Titans
Hiperion and theia
The new parents

Fiber optic castle
Binary utopicallity
Of the anti-phylum
Technological monolingualism

A single mouth
Omnipresent shouting
omniscience chaos
pinnacle of  human pride

On Pandora’s profile
Smiling faces,
Pictures of blue Caribbean waters
A child in the womb
A new car
- What a mansion!
Optical happiness’s
Celebrated disgraces

Ftono likes
It’s what thea sees
But shares with kronos
Intensionally planning
To through their children
In the abysses of Gaia

From Pandora’s box
Comes all evil of the world
But the worst
Is the though
That all thoughts will fit
The same tiny box

Share, like
Oh the pain of the ignored…

Face to face claim
Babel, babel, babel

Spear your tribes to the borders
Nosce te Ipsum
Confuse with the ones that understand you

May your face
Not deface others
Don’t wake up Krono’s rage
Refuse to speak the same language

Freedom of expression
Is to express
Not to outrage other’s thoughts
What greed to consider
That we ever spoke
Or will ever come to speak
Someday the same language

The betrayed mother dreams
That Reia must give birth
The the affable interface
That will touch clicks

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

On being tough - Happy Women's Day!

On being tough

Sunday morning
Woke up in a hurry
Wore my Avon dress
Tuck the stomach in
Wore gray fishnets
And a delicate pair
Of bright purple heels
Got the child ready for church
Fixed our hair
Baked cheese bread
Made until late
The night before
Right after
I filtered my self-distilled wine
To wait thirty more days of fermentation
Same time I was cooking the potatoes
Teaching the child
To be careful in the kitchen
Making home made gnocchi
A gourmet food we can’t afford at a restaurant
When the economy is so bad
Could not hide the dark circles
Under the eyes
The birthday invitations
For the child have to get done
Even if one AM
Back to the descending
of those steps
Here come this really tough two teen girls
Basic clichés:
Dark skulls
Spike dirty looking hair
Raggedy jeans
Nasty shoes
Really original
Giggling uncontrollably
As they passed by
A good morning:
- Take off those fishnets EW
Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha
Three steps down
I realize it was in fact for me
I walk to the car
Sit the child in the car seat
Calmly still in disbelief
I take my seat
I wish to have telepathic abilities
To get into those naive minds
Just to tell them
About being tough
Tough was being a teen
Without proper clothes
Not even for a job interview
Tough was to get that no
“because your style does not fit my company”
For I had mom’s clothes on
Bleeding feet
From shoes too small
to fit my dreams
Tough is not having money for lunch
When you are only eighteen
Tough is going through college
At night after work
Without a shower or food
And have always
Someone with a wonderful sense of humor
At the tangerine you sneak in
At the mud in your shoes
Those tattoos of yours
Will never compare
to what nature will do to you
Are you ready?
Around the corner
The white hairs will all show
The wrinkles will surface
You could be too thin
Too fat
Too poor
Too dumb for that job you wish
I hope I could tell you in this second
When almost on the corner
You still look back
Expecting a reaction
Tough is to know honey
I can’t fix you
Only you can do that
And I pray you do so
I hope that when nature
Sculpts in your body
You can look at that wrinkled face
And face yourself proud
Of the wise woman you have become
I am not standing
Against your tattoo, piercings
Or whatever tough looking paraphernalia
It’s OK to be cool
Just don’t mix up things
And become a fool
Go back home
And hug those books
Your best friends I ensure
I know that’s though hum
To leave your friends
In such beautiful day
To be caged with a book
And learn something if you may
Your youth states
You have all the time of the world
And that will end with a dreadful shock
When that mirror faces you back
And tell you time is up
When you have dark circles
Spider veins
Creepier than that skull on your shirt
Is to feel there is one inside your head
And that image will no longer feel
As tough if you will
I wish you could save that toughness
To use in strength
When your baby is with strangers
And you miss that train
Tough is to go back to work
And find coworkers envious
For how dare you had time out
On maternity leave
Tough is to breast-feed your child
Until year one
To pump in the bathroom
With people counting time
At the door
And giving you a scolding
For you are not “engaged” any more
Tough is to overhear man talking
Of women’s enlarged vaginas after birth
Tough is to start freaking out
That the stupidity could be true
You have just been divined
By bearing a soul
And most men worry
How big is the hole
I know you must be wishing
Not to finish this
“I can’t believe she went there”
I am sorry to say
but that’s the kind of though
I am trying to convey
You need to be strong
Please listen to what I say
You think drugs are though?
Though is to say no
To be the dumb square
No one wants to say hello
Tough is to keep it in your pants
When your body is also in flame
When your desires screams yes
Your mind says you are insane
Don’t mix yourself
Your pure self
That could do so great in this life
With someone who’s intents
You don’t even know
Be wise
Men are big lovers
Women you know
Focus on the big picture
Don’t be fooled by my fishnets
I am as fragile
As your wisdom can get
My heels are part
Of my armor
There is a war out there
May you have in your backpack
At least one lipstick
With red message
Not for your lips
A message of strength
As the substance in your veins
Are you tough?