Canzone di mia madre

She liked ducks,
felt scared of tidal waves.
She painted in her youth,
a Picasso hangs in a frame.

She sang opera and was invited
to Milan,
she chose my dad instead
and sang a different song.

A song of sadness at times
and also one of great joy.

She gave oranges and groceries
to strangers on the side of
the road.

She bought Christmas trees
for a homeless shelter,
gifts for all the children.

I used to ask her to write
checks to World Vision.
She always did.

She always supported me,
loved me, spoiled me,
believed in me.

Doesn't everyone deserve
a mother like that?

I sings her song, too.
A song for others,
and for myself.

O Mio Bambino Caro...

Mother of my youth

When your father and mother forsake thee,
I will take care of thee.

Many mothers have been sought both far
and wide. To mother with style,
favor in pride.
To fill in the gaps of years,
since she died.

However, I still come back to the conclusion,
that the mom who cleaned offices at midnight
with two girls in tow is the one for me.
A single mother by the age I was three,
she never ceased loving me.
Although, I have many women in far off lands
who call me their own, there's only one original
who knows me as I am.


Ode to Kathleen Elizabeth.
I love you.

Spinning Wheel

Hillel was one of the wise,
spinning Babylonian captivity
into Rabbinic tradition.

The Jews were sent into a foreign
land that was a former home,
cradle of all.

Was the Talmud and the Torah
the foundations of life?
Spinning culture into dreams
of cooperation,
gentile and Jew.

There are even stories of
both exchanging gifts on the
others' holidays.

Did Aramaic bridge the
language traditions?

Did a "debir" tell of your
future? Did you long to hear?
Do the writings of Samuel outlast
the parts of the Babylonian Talmud
embraced by the Orthodox?

Swan Lake

My grandmother traded in her ticket for two.
From where we sat, we had a good view.
What did we see? The white and the black,
dancing divinity.

Children/Jesus at the camp

I may sound mysterious or mystical...
Some would say very spiritual.

I think there is just a fine line between
the present and the past, what is meant to be.
I see my ancestors, my friends in other lands,
and my future children (if it all works out).
I see myself looking at their hands.
Descending from farmers, viceroys, kings...
people of varied countries, offering things.

Our father used to hold me on his lap.
My hands outstretched in his hands.
I see my little girl and boy at times
close to me.

Many friends can see their children in Heaven,
waiting to be.

Can I ask you about Einstein, the relativity of time?
He went to my campus, drank of the minds.
Can I expect greatness for myself?
I hope it shall be, bravery is necessary
to conquer mountains of fear.
Overcoming circumstance, movement-
while still standing here.

Do we jump over stones in a river,
with forces rushing around us?
Do we eat at a campfire,
with light that abounds us?

I am eating breakfast with Jesus,
huddled in a blanket from the swim.
I heard they saw him, so I jumped in.
Peter did this, too.
Jesus fed him fish.
The one who denied him was offered
faithfulness.