Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

In a Japanese Garden a cloud of stars singing about their lives ... ten thousand fingers lead me through a garden at the end of night the slow hours and stone lanterns of a night pool— a symphony some god forgot behind these moss-covered walls is death . . . must I settle into this phantom life   do I know better than God? bamboo shoots and a hand-picked iris … the ikebana in the temple alcove wired into silence

death hiding behind the kitchen walls ... must I settle into being a phantom and not say I know things better than God?

bamboo shoots  and hand-picked iris--  the ikebana   in the front alcove,  wired into silence 

the slow hours and stone lanterns of a night garden— musical symphony that some god forgot

a cloud of stars sang to me about their lives led me with ten thousand fingers to a garden at the end of night

I learn the months by measuring the length of men's shadows in the ponds of your eyes

here, in the waiting room  of my life, the doors open  and close like clams

Poppies in gusts of powder snow I forget the wind can find a loose door joy shows its early bloom outside the dancing poppies nest

we are seeds in the clatter of mortality, a gate to the fog ... fierce as a ferret

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the injunction not to taste the fruit arrived from heaven's gate ... now twilight waits for what will come

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Madame Butterfly's faraway sea moves in my ears— the undulating flight of swallows and sparrows

fire, an abstraction... imaginary cover thrown across  the garden  of the real

this child learned the language of birds ... now he can follow the wind with his fingers

tremors from the fissures of my brain ... at the pen’s point do world and spirit wed

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his hand   slips under her dress pushes through the ring of dripping junipers