Page 27 - January 2021
P. 27

Lonely Bones



                                        Paul Lobo Portuges



                              Paul Lobo Portugés is a poet who teaches creative
                            writing at UCSB, taught at UC Berkeley, USC,  and the
                            University of Provence. He lives in Seaside, California




                      He hears the busy soil calling
                      And the haunting voices of flowers
                      As children play cowboys and Indians
                      Yelling they're not dead

                      It's the boredom of the grave
                      That haunts his best friend
                      And his once wife alone at Xmas
                      Waiting for grandchildren to be born

                      He’s tried to learn from trees thankful
                      They breath in our breath breathe out life

                      He often dreams of a miracle for the damage we’ve done to Gaia
                      While banging on heaven’s closed gates with hallelujahs

                      But in this tropic of chaos and dread
                      Where a friend's passing is one sad god
                      "Flies on me flies on you" she used to say
                      Or when a lover's done with you and hope vanishes

                      All he can do is breathe with compassion
                      Knowing silence is a Buddhist con artist
                      Though when he hears the light of children
                       His blood prays for compassion everywhere

                      So he lives with the good poet's "poisoned acceptance"

                      Under a cemetery of singing clouds flowers and bees
                      His sovereign of sadness and the troubled history
                      Of his mouth longing for a long night’s kindness

                      Soon he’ll get out of his own way and lie down
                      With lady earth her breath like green wind
                      And with his poetry of ink his sound town
                      Accept his lonely bones surrendering tomorrow for today




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        litterateur                            7                                         january 2021
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