poem no. 33

Wellnight I can only answer,

Seasoned–greeting how dare, 

We are replacing time-payment, 

Echoing birds, small words… 

Kindly type of amaro, bounty winter… 

Affluence, creations, reality… heaves… 

I will live fast forward… –son! 

Three languages and of course know myself, 

Port of Entry, homeland, and you forsaken me?

I trust God,  to walk along – Mother! –Mother! 

Lucid distance, 

The book’s end, the poet measure how one becomes a self

Unscramble anatomy, shaped a whole litany naming and (mis) recognition

Calling… 

Answer the spirit shall… Neath the open sky ? I must go back

Mile after, Sunny smile… 

Green and windy ridges … 

Roman a man a-kin.