Three Poems

[Keith Millea]

It was a nice surprise to see this on the net this morning.Leonard is the Brother of my ex wifes first husband.Great guy.......

http://www.counterpunch.org/poems10232009.html

Miracle Maker
by LEONARD CIRINO

homage Fadhil Al-Azzawi

Born with stones in his mouth, he cried in silence
and built with pebbles what seemed like towers
but they were only landscapes of wind he adorned
with jewels of stream foam, little pearls of music,
houses, stars and circles marked on his teeth,
girls tattooed on his thighs. He was forbidden
to talk with strangers but loved his nonna
with the taste of garlic on her lips. She seemed
all he ever wanted, an artist of sorts,
but she never drew a thing except well water
and her husband’s slippers from the closet.
One time, the tree to the east thrilled him
like the past he was so fond of. But then
the soldiers came and slaughtered the goats
and his favorite pet. They took him to prison
and tortured his teeth. When they released him
he left, and left behind the twin rivers,
his siblings, that curl back into each other
like the towers he structures with words.
(previously published at The Other Voice International Project)

The Future Torturers
by LEONARD CIRINO
after Sándor Csoóri
If you see my shadow waking, and hear
the clock ring thirteen, then you’ve witnessed
their crimes against imagination:
the men and women with dwarfish thoughts
who swarm among the classical ruins:
white-faced gods arming themselves in secret,
with papers, summons, writs, and decrees.
At bay, the harbor pumps decay, debris,
rivers choke and fish flush, belly-up.
At the pubs, the well-groomed patrons,
push, shove, and posture, drink exotic beer,
as their ringed fingers fondle the glasses.
They trade their fantasies of expensive
women for weapons shipped to the east,
grin and snort, like those without eyes
who hear the smells, eat their hearts.
They own this day, and the future, they say.
Who knows why the fearful passersby
fly to the distance with a pigeon’s grace.
(previously published in The Bitter Oleander)

Mother Country
by LEONARD CIRINO
after Rimma Kazakova
Just before dawn a woman goes to her shadow,
bent on learning what she doesn’t know.
The rain sets runlets glowing, the sun drones
like bees in summer. When has she spent
a more perfect time than late at night
in the meadow, under the moon’s spell,
while slowly gathering the field’s flowers?
With sideways looks that challenge fate,
she finds no words in these starry nights
that can speak the joy she feels. She knows
the world is lovely and walks barefoot
with unflinching eyes and an easy gait.
With all the courage she can muster, she lifts
her skirt and hides her children underneath.

Leonard J. Cirino (1943) is the author of twenty chapbooks and fourteen full-length collections of poetry since 1987 from numerous small presses. He lives in Springfield, Oregon, where he is retired, does home care for his 95 year-old mother, and works full-time as a poet. His book, Omphalos: Poems 2007, will be published by Cervena Barva Press in December, 2009. His collection, after Yang Chi & others, is from March Street Press, May, 2009. His 52-page chapbook, Russian Matinee, is from Cedar Hill Publications in November, 2009. His 88-page collection, Chinese Masters, is from March Street press in November, 2009.