status uPdate

he was first, the homeless,
(in my mind–) a man/a woman,
sitting on the steps of a cathedral
(any city//any time)
sun singeing holes into a dented cup&

pink burnt tourists (colored shorts)
smile sparkles off the sun
(ignore them as if they don’t exist)
i couldn’t hold him though (nor her)
& dunno why i saw ‘em (in this)

in the front, my little one//snapshot//san josé
cars and bushes in the background,
the cathedral’s arched, majestic
stain glass eyes on her,

she tells me they go to parks,
offering food to those in need, &
“–mom, you shouldn’t come
if you have problems with wild dogs”

“they dangerous?”
“not really but they’re everywhere–”
“dog shit on the pavements?”
“ha, it rains all afternoon, so–“
& i try not to think of
what gets flooded down the roads,

instead i paint, (and can’t)
capture that blue smile i found traces of
the first time that i held her,
shaky still from giving birth, so slow,
developing like photos in a darkroom,
//stre t  c  h  e d into life//

an hour back, i put my saxophone into her room,
sat down on the bed, for a few minutes,
breathing what she left and who// she is,
her smile tightly clinging to my skin,
so manifest,
so palpable,
so many thousand miles–away


hey…just coming back from Nice… (ah…la cote d’azur… beauty…will write an ode to her for FFA on thursday…hint..hint) and will be hosting OLN at dVerse in a bit… so let me catch my breath and see you at 3pm EST…smiles..will also catch up with you who have commented during my absence…just gimme a bit time..smiles


55 responses to “status uPdate

  1. I simply adore this poem, Claudia, as you bring so much to the heart’s table; this is a maternal sonata, remembering the helplessness of decisions regarding the homeless and rivers of dog shit, the painting as passion, as diversion, and the cool sadness of you blowing your axe while sitting on her bed; wow.

  2. Best to forget how many miles.
    Letting go is never easy.
    Sitting in those deserted bedrooms, conjuring up memories while digesting the present you can create from her stories.

  3. When we no longer notice the homeless, I guess we can start worrying about what shocks us and what we take for granted. On a lighter note, Claudia I hope you enjoyed your stay in Nice.

  4. …developing like photos in a darkroom, //stre t c h e d into life….love this. Makes me think of all the homeless I have seen and fed…when I was younger it was great!

  5. I try not to get immune to seeing the homeless. We must not….we need to pay attention. I don’t think they are dangerous, any more than the non-homeless are dangerous. Putting your saxophone in her room is such a symbolic motherly gesture. I like it, as it shows how important mothers and daughters ARE to one another, even when they are far away.

  6. beautifully written, but i know you not only are missing her, you are worrying about her…. afraid that never goes away ~ they just add grandchildren to give you more to worry about. {smile}

  7. Great work. Every time I see a homeless person I think about how impossible it would be to live that way, but people do. This hits on so many aspects of life. Parenthood, passage of time, having a sense of purpose and home (or lack thereof).

  8. So many thousands miles, now only a few finger-taps on “smart-assed” phone.
    I try to imagine (sometimes shudder) what you–and she–will see, that day when you realize age, and wonder “where to did all those years rush?”

    You gaze back now on less than half a life. I look back now in total wonderment. Homeless are without a house of their own…but never withtout a home, which, if one looks, can be found deep inside each where God lives. We give what we can…

  9. Claudia, please take time to catch up with yourself, your family. Loved this poem. Made me think too of my daughter’s birth. Now it is she who births, and I’m so happy for her…and for me.

  10. So many photos “developed” in my mind from this poem.. smiles.
    From what’s flooding on the road from the rain to–my favorites–the wonderful description of giving birth, that stanza is exquisite. and the smile that lingers on the skin.

  11. Well..yeah..there is nothing like a Mother’s Love..
    The greatest of all my opinion..for that unconditional love..
    That is often not found anywhere but friend…
    So beautiful for you to have it..2…..

  12. It is amazing how everyday things we see reminds us of those close to us, what they do, what they say, etc.

    I like how you painted the homeless against the parade of tourists, and how this scene brought introspection. 🙂

  13. Poop becomes paint in your hands, emotions become color, light becomes prisms of colors shooting, glancing off, careening through plazas and piazzas, and words are always love showering anyone who knows, sees, or reads you.

  14. Just love your word pictures. The dogs remind me of Venice, running free without a lick (pardon the pun) of grass… Watch your step! And the emotional images you give us. One can feel the longing of a mother for her child. There are moments when we can feel homeless, incomplete, even when we have a roof over our head and the warmth of a fire in the hollow fold of unheld desire…

  15. It was like viewing different stations on the tv for just a few seconds before moving on to the next…a wonderful update and expression of feelings…another excellent verse.