This collection contains original work inspired by the volcanic and verdant Portuguese Archipelago in the wonderful wilds of the North Atlantic Ocean and the beautiful creatures who inhabit them. Bem vindo!
Summer, Azores, 2019
The days were long, full and lush.
I sucked intently at the breast of this little world
for each drop of nourishment offered.
An intoxicating brew,
numbing the senses
to all the superfluous—
enabling crystalline focus
on worthy subjects only:
singing birds, crooning cows.
crashing waves, warbling cagarros.
Friendly “bom dias”, “boa tardes”
and “boa noites” from the passersby.
Happy toots from passing trucks selling fruit
or crusty provisions straight from the padaría.
The bells of Nossa Senhora de Conceicão
announcing the passing time with their old world din.
precious and hallowed moments,
insisting frequent remembrance—
at times mournful,
but always grateful,
for the gift that was—
Summer, Azores, 2019.
Though I am not there, life goes on.
The mighty azure surf rolls in-and-out
The sun’s long arc creeps from horizon-to-horizon
The cagarros arrive at the warming and say goodbye when it is time
The fruit truck toots its happy horn while passing-by
The yearly feasts are observed and locals make merry
The whales still know what they know and keep it all to themselves
. . .
The wind whistles through my shutters and hums across our fields
The mantle clock faithfully ticks-out the lonely hours
The hydrangea buds, blooms and blows away
(Portuguese for Fate)
The moth has fallen in love
with a streetlamp. And
why not? His dazzling attention
is craved by many. Surrounded nightly
by scores of fluttering
Jezebels. But this evening
he shines only for her.
All through the dark she undulates
to and fro his glow. A lusty mid-air tango
powered by lux amorous.
This is not their first dance.
The Fates will have their way.
The sun starts its rise
as his lumens begin to dim.
The light-warmed air cools around them
and galos crow-out last-call.
Dawn slowly creeps-in
whilst he in his candelas
softly sneak-out. Parting
their wooing-ways as-always.
And so it goes with love
Portuguese to English for “Saudade”
Has there ever been a word
translated less sufficiently?
my heart is
your heart is
our heart is
the heart is
The Mystery of Life?
I do not have to know;
I only have to be.
I do not aspire to know;
I only aspire to be.
I do not need to know;
I only need to be.
I do not desire to know;
I only desire to be.
I do not dream to know;
I only dream to be.
I do not live to know;
I only live to be.