Attachments

And this was my blood of every day
And this was my sun
And this was my wind

I learned to think this was me
this object
this thing
(a blanket a suitcase a bed)
I could never possess
This something outside
I could never be

While the truth was elsewhere
and within
While the truth like a heartbeat
was constant
inside
And attachment
like a fist
could barely contain
the dance of all time.

--Lorena Wolfman 2014

Inner sea

the blood of sea stars
is the sea itself
the red sea
we carry on the earth
reminds us of the passion
that engendered us
from the sea
there's no place
that's not inside
the center of now
there are no deep unatainable waters
there's just here
inner sanctum

-- Lorena Wolfman (2013)

Multiplication

what does a sea star have in common
with a human being o a god?
the star's spine
is multiplied by five
like the digits of a finger
with an eye at the end of each ray
the sea sun senses light and shadow
when it senses danger
it easily lets go of a flame
this is multiplied at an unexpected rate
like shooting stars
the hands of god today
are dissolving in the sea
and with them 500 million years
each star
a handful of nothing
a ravaged dream

––Lorena Wolfman © 2013

dark flowers

we're flying hard 

hard on the wing
of life’s dream

its a storm in a tree

whose knowledge can take you to hell 
and back

and back

and back

into the center

where it might all make sense

if only I could remember

re-mem-ber

as I woke up

what was the twist?

the alchemy

of last night's dream?

its storming out

its boiling hot

something in the water
even pulls the color out 

of my yellow ship's hull

said the sailor

there was no life for 3000 miles he said

there were no birds
because there were no fish he said
it was silent for miles he said

the ocean is broken he said
the only sound was that of debris hitting the hull he said

there was so much garbage he said

when the wind died we could not start our motors he said

meanwhile enormous serpents are rising from the sea bottom

with a thousand forgotten ancient dreams

lodged in their spines

and the dead keep singing

as they peek out through the night

through the black rain

below everywhere dark flowers are blooming

--Lorena Wolfman © 2013

communion

I breathe through my ribs
my sides have become gills
sweet soft oxygenated water
flows through me
each pore is an organ
of communion with the world
the breath of the sky
of the trees
of the bamboo in the garden
of my siamese house cat
of the lightning fast blue fin tuna
their inanimate bodies laid out
after being massacred
breath enters me
from all the lands and waters
and skies
where there is war and not
where there is hunger and not
from places I have seen and not
from that which is invisible and not
from the other side of the pacific
where uranium and plutonium
heat the sea
from everywhere breath enters me
from here in my house
communicated with all other houses
the same as bamboo
that flowers all over the world
at the same time
no one can protect themselves
from what will come
no one is alone

--Lorena Wolfman © 2013

from zero

the effulgent sea
within my skin
comes upon itself
from zero
like an enormous wave
brimming
with its own self

blue rising
from within

eternally

coming out
of its own skin

the quiet center
you see in my eyes
has always been the silent
fount of everything
all the volume
in the universe

I didn't make this up
nor is it mine alone

all surfaces
are now a luminous transparent
skin

before the temporal
looked so important

while the boundless center
is contained
within the crumbling walls
that once seemed so solid
that looked so much like things
a home
a country
a family

we thought each thing was real
a necklace
a book
a pair of binoculars
we gave it magical powers
to invoke the dead

we always call upon opposites
to reveal the other in contrast
and when we least expect it
the third
may appear

the stone
carved so many years ago
disolves
by the effects
of salt rain
wind sun
and time

all messengers
of zero

and just what is inside zero

the eternal waters
once cloud river
morning dew
discover one another
under the arch
made of crumbling mountain
attesting
to eternal potential
renewing itself
in parallel dances
the same dance


--Lorena Wolfman © 2013

SADAKO (Translation)

enola gay mother
you are alone
you gave your son
to the air
and his plane
bird of ill omen
knows no joy
--belly of steel
that cradled the atomic little boy
across the whole pacific ocean––
in an act of war
that holds the abomination
of a blind sky god
prince of the air
who violates the earth
uranus it is your offspring
usurper who goes by many names
hiroshima nagasaki
bikini fukushima
mayapuri enewetak
nevada novaya zemlya

(for each one

sadako folds 

a paper crane

and threads it

as in times of yore

in a chain of colors)
uranus blinded by the light
of his own reason
takes the life
of the chaste sadako
while her father
with infinite care
gives her rice with green tea
delicious sadako tells him
delicious
uranus takes her life
but sadako knows to forgive him
we are all
sadako
we all
fold our paper cranes
and we thread them in the face of death
and if still
we have yet to thread them
we will thread them still
our paper cranes

--Lorena Wolfman © 2013

it is the moon that watches over her

(with gratitude and all due thanks to Lorca)

the moon watches over her, tends to her,
the moon is tending to her
the chaste girl
in her white chrisantemum coffin
the moon is watching over her
tends to her
and kisses her closed eyelids
the moon lubricious and pure
watches over her and dances
here is my sepulture
sings the moon
here in my heart
sings the sun––


--Lorena Wolfman © 2013

Today

today everything we knew came to an end
it is the end of the world as we knew it

don't cry for the starfish
who released their arms
before dissolving

don't cry for the sea lion pups
whose frail bodies are starving
who eat their dead at the water's edge
obeying a final survival instinct

don't cry for the salmon
whose carmine meat has turned yellow

or for the humpback whale
who song is stilled 

nor for the sardines
whose blood stains the sea red

the giant sea serpents
are rising from the depths
leaving behind their inanimate bodies

through the algae's veins
suspended in the deeps
among the drowned souls
runs the sweat and tears
of the unleashed fury
of pluto and uranus

cry not
all the sea's creatures
return to the heart
of the infinite mother
all the creatures return
to the center



--Lorena Wolfman © 2013

come eat

(with thanks to Simón and Pablo)

like children
we must invent words
to be able to say
what we want to say
though we don't know yet
what they mean

interpreting
the scrawled symbols
of the soul
the heart's handwriting
is the work
of a life time
if not more

meanwhile
the table is served

come eat

--Lorena Wolfman © 2012

travelers

we navigate through the universe
through the imagination
to all the continents
in a little boat
we navigate
like Bolívar
even through those life long
romantic aventures
which at times would seem to sink
or burn the boat up
many times our mouthes 
have tasted of ash
but here we are
travelers of the soul
rowing rowing
and when we arrive 
at calm waters
everything is present
on earth
as it is in heaven

-- Lorena  © 2012

winter

we will walk
amidst the blades
of cold

our desire
will refuse to settle
amidst the fallen leaves

the wind will sound
its uneven music
admidst the naked branches

we will carry with us
the unsheathed swords
of memory

absorbing the heat
of a far off sun
will require patience

but it will still burn


 --Lorena © 2012

packing my bags

today I'm packing my bags for a new life
they are almost empty
I don’t need titles nor adjectives nor adverbs
at most    an apple

a serpent follows me
belly to the earth

the pulse of my steps
abandons my feminine heritage

the marrow of the road
blooms before me

perhaps I have already died
from a past that was not even mine

who was she who died
of whom were her desires of gender
of whom were her fears

well today asking no one’s permission
I prepare for a new life



-- Lorena Wolfman © 2012

hand dance

hands
ready to fly
possessed by dance

dance of the fairy sisters
who thought they were hummingbird
but were born butterfly

butterfly making the sign of the cross
in the cathedral
of the mortal forest

forest where they open
doors of being
in the body

body that needs the contact
of the tender twins
dragonfly messengers
longing to touch

touch
skin
pulse
rivers
breath
stars

stars found
by sharp needled compass
of sensibility

life's dual blade
of need and desire

dual flames
briefly dancing
on the face of the earth

--Lorena Wolfman © 2012

no name

a lie like a magnet
like thunder that doesn’t clap
persists still
after a precise felling

ever since then
death froze lying in wait
til the colors of the rainbow could resolve
the colors I see reflected in these streets
in the night of your pupils
that look without being seen
in the middle of this insomoniac city
where the impenetant wound of the void remains
like a breach in the middle
of history
of the two towers
of the recently become old world
of this immigrant peninsula
breach that separates us
from the torch of liberty
like a gash that doesn’t heal
or a trench
or open vein
or  river

we have crossed the river Styx
without noticing

death is incurable

here the rain shines by night on the asphalt
and meets up with ghosts
who call us by our name
without naming us

in a park nearby
young people gather
in vigel or protest

and our feet keep getting wet...

--Lorena © 2012

sin nombre

la mentira como iman

como trueno que no estalla

aún persiste

después del derrumbe preciso

y desde entonces

la muerte se quedó en acecha

hasta resolverse en los colores del arcoiris

colores que veo reflejados en estas calles

en la noche de tus pupilas

que miran sin que se miren

en medio de esta ciudad insomne

donde la herida del vacío impenitente queda

como una zanja en medio

de la historia

de las dos torres

del recién antiguo mundo

de esta península inmigrante

zanja que nos separa 
de la antorcha de la libertad

como una lesión que no se sana

o trinchera

o vena abierta

o río

hemos cruzado el Estige

sin darnos cuenta

aquí la lluvia brilla de noche sobre el asfalto

y se reune con fantasmas

que nos llaman por nuestro nombre

sin nombrarnos

en un parque cerca

los jóvenes se juntan

en vigilia o protesta

y nuestros pies siguen mojándose...

--Lorena 

poem to be read from the last word to the first:

always

her to faithful

be to needs


live to order in who


me it is

or

was I that



girl

old-year five the to


faithful be to me

needs

she

her know to 

--Lorena © 2012

marrow

marrow

with your caress you invite

tranquility / marrow

sea / desire

always

in the middle

of life

silent

-- Lorena © 2012

today I pack my valise

today I pack my valise for a new life
it is almost empty
I don’t need titles nor adjectives nor adverbs
at most an apple

a serpent follows me
belly to the earth

the pulse of my steps
abandons my feminine inheritance
the marrow of the road blooms

perhaps I have died already
from a past that was not even mine

who was she who died
of whom were her desires of gender
of whom were her fears

well today asking no one’s permission
I prepare for a new life



-- Lorena © 2012

I need

I need to feel
the sound of the rain

the explosion

of thunder stirring up

my heart’s clouds

this turbulent song

traveling across the earth

I need to feel I need

silver gray and shadow

music of the sea

I need the murmur
of water shining everywhere
I need it all
 

--LorenaWolfman 2010-2012