The Summer of 2020

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The will of it, the will and the way
Earth turns and summer is reborn one more time
so many times in one lifetime
Just this time, we are invited by the billboards
by our cellphones and TV to watch it unfold
at our gates and through our windows
Just Stay Home!

This summer we don’t do much
We are scattered shells on empty beaches
We stay apart and shield our faces
No swimming yet, no traveling yet
No backgammon games with the neighbors
We wave over fences, we pull our lawns out and plant vegetables
Small gardens, organic of course, and we hope no one will tread
upon the little seedlings, and knock on our doors.
”Be respectful, this might be all we get to eat!
“Are they really coming here? Why here?”
“Just leave the groceries on the step outside
I left a tip under the mat”
No visitors no back yard BBQ’s or block party beer fests
No tango classes or even school classes
no high school, no college, no mixing
What are your plans this summer?
To not get sick or die or infect a bunch of innocents
with my invisible murder hornets, that fly out
from every word I speak, when I sing, when I sneeze

We are all trying not to get sick
Those are our plans for this summer
Not get sick or sicken anyone else
The summer of 2020

When our masks become the everyday look.
Everyone looks normal with their faces covered up
And oh how chic she is wearing a shield
The kind that you put on like glasses how easy and practical
and people have conversations 6 feet apart about which ones are the best
the cheapest the easiest to find
and if we spy someone barefaced, we wide side-step them,
or cross the street, throw a frown, or even a fit
and ask them to leave our coffee shop, our vegetable stands, our taxis
Sickness blows around us, through the streets in little tiny particles
clogging up our tears ducts even smaller particles ravaging our lungs
Our families, leaving us hopeless
Macro-micro invaders
Dust and microscopic platoons spreading out and waiting
for us to bare-handedly touch them, or suck on our fingers idly
without washing first, inhale them while laughing
walk into the wrong place at the wrong time and get pepper sprayed
by these wily troops whose only mission is
To seek, Get inside and Destroy!
These hoards that multiply by the nano-second
We don’t perceive them with our senses
and in this record breaking heat
It’s hard to feel anything but cranky

How easy it would be to give up in the summer of 2020
Only see the negative that begins to warp our sanity
But while there’s love and music and poetry and children
who believe in magic and grown-ups and next year
I fasten my mask around my ears and take a walk
Where I see the most glorious rainbow arching high above me…

Karima Hoisan
July 3, 2020
Costa Rica

En Español

La voluntad de ella … la voluntad y el camino
La tierra gira y el verano renace una vez más
tantas veces en una vida
Justo esta vez, nos invitan las vallas publicitarias
por nuestros teléfonos celulares y TV para ver cómo se desarrolla
a nuestras puertas y a través de nuestras ventanas
Solo Quédate en Casa!

Este verano no hacemos mucho
Somos conchas dispersas en playas vacías
Nos mantenemos separados y protegemos nuestras caras
Sin nadar todavía, sin viajar todavía
No hay juegos de backgammon con los vecinos.
Saludamos por las cercas, sacamos el césped y sembramos vegetales
Pequeños jardines, orgánicos, por supuesto, y esperamos que nadie pise
sobre las pequeñas plántulas, y toca nuestras puertas.
“Sea respetuoso, ¡esto podría ser todo lo que podamos comer!
“¿Realmente vienen aquí? ¿Por qué aquí?”
“Solo deja los comestibles en la grada afuera
Dejé una propina debajo de la alfombra de bienvenida”
No hay visitantes, no hay barbacoas en el patio trasero ni fiestas de cerveza
No hay clases de tango o incluso clases escolares.
sin escuela secundaria, sin universidad, sin mezclarse
¿Cuáles son tus planes para este verano?
No enfermarse, morir o infectar a un grupo de inocentes.
con mis avispones invisibles de asesinato, que vuelan
por cada palabra que digo, cuando canto, cuando estornudo

Todos estamos tratando de no enfermarnos
Esos son nuestros planes para este verano.
No enfermarse ni enfermar a nadie más.
El verano de 2020

Cuando nuestras máscaras se convierten en el look cotidiano.
Todos se ven normales con sus caras cubiertas
Y oh, qué elegante está usando un escudo
Del tipo que te pones como gafas, fácil y práctico.
y las personas tienen conversaciones a 6 pies de distancia sobre cuáles son las mejores
el más barato el más fácil de encontrar
y si espiamos a alguien con la cara descubierta, los esquivamos
o cruzar la calle, fruncir el ceño o incluso un ataque verbal
y pedirles que salgan de nuestra cafetería, nuestros puestos de verduras, nuestros taxis
La enfermedad sopla a nuestro alrededor, a través de las calles en pequeñas partículas
obstruyendo nuestros conductos de lágrimas, incluso partículas más pequeñas que devastan nuestros pulmones
Nuestras familias, dejándonos sin esperanza.
Macro-micro invasores
Polvo y pelotones microscópicos extendiéndose y esperando
para que podamos tocarlos con las manos desnudas, o chupar nuestros dedos sin pensar, sin lavarlos primero, inhalarlos mientras se ríe
entrar al lugar equivocado en el momento equivocado y rociarse con pimienta
por estas astutas tropas cuya única misión es
Buscar, Entrar y Destruir!
Estas acumulaciones que se multiplican por el nano-segundo
No los percibimos con nuestros sentidos.
y en este récord rompiendo el calor
Es difícil sentir otra cosa que mal humor

Qué fácil sería rendirse en el verano de 2020
Solo vemos lo negativo que comienza a deformar nuestra cordura
Pero mientras haya amor, música, poesía y niños.
que creen en la magia y los adultos y el año que viene
Me pongo la máscara alrededor de las orejas y salgo a caminar
Donde veo el arcoíris más glorioso arqueándose por encima de mí

 

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Constructed in Verse

The Owl King's Daughter318a5

The Owl King’s Daughter

Constructed in Verse

She poured her heart out on paper, which left her so empty inside.
Why this necessity, this imperative to find the words and speak
out loud to blank pages, to ears that don’t hear?
The few that might read her, would they ever understand
that’s what she was doing?
Or, would they just hear gibberish, a cocktail napkin of unmatched words
like odd socks one would never wear in public?

Well, she had explained it before, but who really listens anymore?
Who takes the time to even read, let alone understand a poetic intention?
Who has the patience to understand her?
To realize that when a poet breaks her heart

wide open for all to see,
the only real cure and salve, the needle and thread, the recovery bed,
is to write write write her poetry.

When her heart cracked open wide..she fled, climbing
ascending stairs higher and higher.
She shunned the sun and the daylight sounds,
for a small attic room she made dark as night
She was now in her tower,
her blood spilling on the floor..
mopping it up with paper, filling her pen with it, she wrote..

Her tragedy converted into alchemy; poetry was born again!
From disillusionment and pain; a mess of tangled thoughts in red,
was her own special way back to sane.
Poetry was not her idle pastime, or her dice and card game; poetry defined her.
She was constructed in verse, and healed in cinquians,,
If you knew just a little bit of what her poems were saying,
you could be her savior, her knight of knights and her brave saint…
and…. there is a good chance you would probably be a poet.

Karima Hoisan
June 29, 2020
Costa Rica

En Español

 

Construida en Verso

Ella vertió su corazón en papel, lo que la dejó tan vacía por dentro.
Por qué esta necesidad, este imperativo de encontrar las palabras y hablar
en voz alta a páginas en blanco, a oídos que no oyen?
Los pocos que podrían leerla, ¿alguna vez lo entenderían,,,
que eso es lo que estaba haciendo?
O, ¿escucharían simplemente galimatías, una servilleta de cóctel de palabras inigualables
como calcetines disparejos, que uno nunca usaría en público?

Bueno, ya lo había explicado antes, pero ¿quién realmente escucha hoy día?
¿Quién se toma el tiempo de leer, y mucho menos entender una intención poética?
¿Quién tiene la paciencia para entenderla?
Darse cuenta de que cuando un poeta le rompe el corazón
abierto para que todos lo vean,
el único remedio y ungüento real, la aguja y el hilo, el lecho de recuperación,
es escribir escribir escribir su poesía.

Cuando su corazón se abrió de par en par … huyó, trepando
escaleras ascendentes cada vez más altas.
Ella evitó el sol y la luz y los sonidos del día,
para una pequeña habitación en el ático que oscureció como la noche
Ella estaba ahora en su torre,
su sangre derramándose en el piso …
limpiando con papel, llenando su bolígrafo con ella, escribió …

Su tragedia se convirtió en alquimia; ¡La poesía nació de nuevo!
De desilusión y dolor; un lío de pensamientos enredados en rojo,
era su propio camino especial de regreso a la cordura.
La poesía no era su pasatiempo ocioso, ni su juego de dados y cartas; la poesía la definió.
Fue construida en verso y sanada en cinquain.
Si supieras un poco de lo que decían sus poemas,
podrías ser su salvador, su caballero de caballeros y su valiente santo …
y … hay muchas posibilidades de que también serías un poeta.

Karima Hoisan
29, de Junio 2020
Costa Rica

 

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Please Stay!

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Gino arranging pillows

Please Stay!
For Gino

You seem to be haunting us all quite evenhandedly
I had a dream and then he had a dream and she told me
she had a dream about you..

In her dream, I gave you permission to come back and live here
in this house, and in any form; even as a ghost you would be welcome.
Of course you are welcome..this house is more yours than mine or any of us..
You poured in such love, groomed plants to fill us with extra oxygen
Carried food to where we worked, tucked us all in at night.
All day, even when I don’t see you, I sense you are close,
feeding the parrot, arranging the flowers making me laugh until I cry.
You Are this house, part of the very fabric, and even death can not release you.
It is our honor to have you keep residing here, walking through the rooms,
waving your hand and strewing peace and joy like incense, that surrounds us.
We knew this house was magical, and we knew who helped to keep that magic safe.
Even if we can’t catch a side-eyed view, of your specter in a mirror some day,
We know you are still hard at work, the keeper of the keys, of all our history,
the keeper of our hearts and all our secrets, your noble soul; we are your destiny.

Your footsteps can still be heard on the arabesque tiles in the hall,
that you strode with such grace and if you choose to hover here
floating and watching over forever; we all say, a definitive, “Yes! Please stay.”

Karima Hoisan
June 28, 2020
Costa Rica

*************
En Español

Por Favor Quédate!
Para Gino

Parece que nos persigue a todos de manera bastante imparcial
Tuve un sueño y luego él tuvo un sueño y ella me contó
que ella tuvo un sueño contigo …

En su sueño, te di permiso para volver y vivir aquí,
en esta casa y en cualquier forma; incluso como fantasma serías bienvenido.
Por supuesto, de nada … esta casa es más tuyo que la mía o de cualquiera de nosotros …
Vertiste tanto amor, cuidaste las plantas para llenarnos de oxígeno extra
Llevaste comida a donde trabajamos, Dijiste, “Pasen buenas noches” a todos por la noche.
Todo el día, incluso cuando no te veo, siento que estás cerca,
alimentando al loro, arreglando las flores haciéndome reír hasta que lloro.
Eres esta casa, parte de la tela misma, e incluso la muerte no puede liberarte.
Es un honor tenerte seguir viviendo aquí, caminando por las habitaciones.
agitando tu mano y esparciendo paz y alegría como incienso, que nos rodea.
Sabíamos que esta casa era mágica, y sabíamos quién ayudó a mantener esa magia a salvo.
Incluso si no podemos ver una vista lateral, de su espectro en un espejo algún día,
Sabemos que todavía estás trabajando duro, el guardián de las llaves, de toda nuestra historia,
el guardián de nuestros corazones y todos nuestros secretos, tu noble alma; fuimos tu destino

Tus pasos todavía se pueden escuchar en el pasillo de azulejos arabescos
que caminaste con tanta gracia y si elige pasar el rato aquí
flotando y velando por siempre; todos decimos definitivamente: “¡Sí! Por favor quédate.”

 

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Life in Monochrome

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Monochromatic palm leaves and shadow on white backdrop

Life in Monochrome

All we see are the shadows, the projections the sun paints across the world.
Our vision of reality is as pale as tree branches outlined in grey
waving on the walls, just a monochrome of real life .

We think we are seeing; we call it that, but we are the sleeping delusionals
proclaiming we understand the world, the fabric that holds us all together
When most of us have never opened our eyes all the way, wide eyed.

Let yourself stay half asleep on a bright morning inside a forest window pane
Let the ballet begin on your walls your paintings your mirror frame
as wind picks up and colorless leaves shimmer in silver and black across your face

Know that we are only seeing what is here in an inside-out view
The dullness even of the brightest colors we can imagine in our version of the world
are over-shadowed when we learn to turn it all right side up and sample bliss.

And yet..how glorious this dance of the branch and flower, the leaf in the breeze!
How we are mesmerized, when a voice tells us there is more than meets the eye…
Look and sway and close them, let it play on our eyelids, until we can perceive.

It is almost enough to bring us to tears, how bound we were and now we’re free…
How far from the truth we were with all our preconceived theories and rationality
Life does seem more worth it, when taking our first steps towards its hidden reality…

Karima Hoisan
June 23rd 2020
Costa Rica

 

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Cool Moon

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Cool Moon

Cool moon… full and silver blue, shining through my window
What do you want with me tonight?
Will you make me cry for lost time and forgotten dreams
Or will you haunt my walls with other memories?

You play waiting games with me, using clouds as playful shields
To dim your luminescent light.
Then when I bravely reopen my eyes to stare into your face
You blind me once again, dissolving clouds without a trace.

I lay back on my bed pondering how you knew just where to find me?
Still awake and now hypnotized by your cool touch…
How you could take me by the hand and pull me out into the night,
Down forgotten paths so faraway, enveloped in your eerie light.

I want to thank you, but sometimes I just want to bind and blind my eyes.
I never asked to see it all again, this parade of loss and tears,
But although you keep me up all night you are so cosmically immune
So distant and uncaring; how very cruel you are at times… cool moon.

Karima Hoisan
June 20th 2020
Costa Rica

En Español
************
Luna Fresca

Luna fría … llena y azul plateado, brillando a través de mi ventana
¿Qué quieres conmigo esta noche?
¿Me harás llorar por el tiempo perdido y los sueños olvidados?
¿O perseguirás mis paredes con otros recuerdos?

Juegas juegos de espera conmigo, usando nubes como escudos juguetones
Para atenuar su luz luminiscente.
Luego, cuando valientemente vuelvo a abrir los ojos para mirarte a la cara
Me cegas una vez más, disolviendo nubes sin dejar rastro.

Me recosté en mi cama pensando cómo supiste este momento para encontrarme
todavía despierto y ahora hipnotizado por tu toque genial.
Cómo podrías tomarme de la mano y sacarme a la noche
Por caminos olvidados tan lejanos, envueltos en tu misterioso luz.

Quiero agradecerte, pero a veces solo quiero atar y cegar mis ojos
Nunca pedí verlo todo de nuevo, este desfile de pérdida y lágrimas,
Pero aunque me mantienes despierto toda la noche, eres tan inmune cósmicamente
Tan distante e indiferente; qué cruel eres a veces … luna fresca.

 

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In Its Time

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Klimt- Two Girlfriends

In Its Time
for Iris

What was real at one time now no longer is real..
It is an ephemeral shadow, a faded photograph of a moment that no longer exists…
Our lives are a series of these vignettes…
from bright and hopeful to dull and over we turn round and round.
Attached to the highest ceiling we spin,
rotating between day and night, routine and surprise, boredom and joy,

You were on this ride with me…we spun in the same swing…holding hands we laughed out loud at the mountains as wild parakeets giggled overhead.
We loved voraciously gobbling up the minutes, the precious few we were given,
and we glowed, in every photograph, we just shined out as the camera snapped us up.

Instead of feeling sad today, I choose to remember how real it was in its time.
How we constantly pinched ourselves to believe our great luck.
The intersection of our lives, as brief as it was, filled us with love and we almost burst
in simultaneous combustion of tenderness, light touches and tears of laughter.

That first time we played in the same scene, I was sure our movie was a winner.
We made plans, we shared the full moon and the monkeys in the morning.
We were always in touching distance, we were were always smiling and kissing.
But with a few revolutions, an unexpected twist of fate, it was all thrown away.

Happy Birthday dear you.. this memory of us still is burning bright in my life.

Karima Hoisan
June 14th, 2020
Costa Rica

 

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The Muse Wants What it Wants

muse_by Vyara Tichkova

Muse by Vyara Tichkova

For Lance Sheridan
(who knows his muse well)

The muse wants what it wants.
I might want to just lay some things to rest forever,
in a cemetery of kindness where I can leave flowers but once a year.
She roams my graveyard of lost loves and takes pictures of headstones;
places them, like napkins next to my dinner plate.
The muse digs through my attic discovering things,
she finds interesting and hauls them downstairs.
Makes me open my eyes and look again at what and who I attempted to lose:
Things buried since 2012 or since January 12th in a few literal graves.

I guess the muse knows best, if I should bathe a poem in tears or hope.
In any case, she has the first and last word of whatever gets written here.
Ask anyone who knows the muse…autonomous, surprising, playful beguiling.
Ask them if they ever tried to say “No,” to her and were able to sign a finished painting?
Ask them if they ever said, “Not now” to her …
and could remember that thought she put in their heads,
at just the wrong moment, so they never wrote it down?

The muse is no quitter and if you are one…she will not come back. That’s that!!.
She is a winner and if she takes your hand in hers, you will be too.
Accept her, trust her and love her; every artist of every art, needs her close by.
I love my muse and she knows it.. How do I know she does?
Well, when I am softly moaning about no longer being a poet,
not having one new thought I want to say, she shakes me awake
with the first rays of the morning sun and…
I just know I will finish a poem that day.

Karima Hoisan
June 8th 2020
Costa Rica

 

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Two Raven Poems from The Past

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Drawing by Gino 2007

Four and Twenty 
~^~

See two black birds fly…
fly away.
One flew first, might have landed North…
can’t say.
The other went West, no other choice … 
that fateful day.
No flocks enjoined them “Fly with Me” …
lost their way.

All the little boys with slingshots in their hands…
stormy day,
remembered seeing the sleek one change her course…
get away.
The true- pierced ebony comet fell…
upon the way, 
sprinkled with drizzle, lying still and numb…
nothing to say. 

No more observing black birds wing to wing…
perfect synchronization
Nor watching them twist and turn as one… 
inspired imagination.
Who noticed, that Someone took to counting them?..
Pre-destined calculation.
Then packed one in a pie with a broken heart…
Ate of her sweet annihilation.

Raven Heart 
~^~.

You ask, “What can I do for you?”
You are a love of sorts,
and your eyes shine with desire.
What if I answer you
candidly, sincere,
would that love force
in your eyes 
that glows for me 
soon tire?

Please go find the one
who used to glide beside me.
Tell her what her lonely
raven- heart aspires.
If you are still of a mind
to stick it out with me,
then copy her every nuance,
learn the magic,
she inspires.

Once we were two graceful birds
black as night.
We opened up our souls
lighter than air in flight.
How we dared to
and we did
reach something higher.

If you have ready answers
For each why of mine,
I’m challenging the wind alone,
so now’s the time.
I almost fold these sad cloth wings
in final submission 
to all life brings,
and in your arms
that ache for me,
I will consent
to let myself expire.

 Karima Hoisan
Jordan 2006


*Originally published in Gliding Beauty 2007

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Statue in the Entryway

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I don’t remember the exact moment I stopped living
I mean
I was still breathing…just not really alive.

My spinal chord took over for my brain
so I could still walk, eat, swallow blink.

My color was good, my blood pressure just fine,
but somehow, I was not who I used to be inside.

Has that ever happened to you?

I can still ponder but not act out my conclusions.
I still can respond to general mundanity, but I forget my answers.

I know who everyone is, sharp as a tack pounded into the carpet,
but I am not as interested as I was before… and my head hurts.

Nature holds my attention for long periods of time;
the changing sky, the darting birds, seem to mesmerize me.

Has that ever happened to you?

It occurs to me I might be approaching some finality,
although it does seem one could go on forever this way.

I slip through my friends contact lists so they forget to call me.
I slide down out of sight, so although visible, no one seems to see me.

I am thinking this could be progressive and what that actually could mean…
Will I wind up a statue in the entryway, who gets dusted twice a month?
Will I turn into a painting of dull pastels that no one likes to contemplate?
Or will I be a once beloved photograph fallen to the floor of the attic?
In any case, it all seems beyond my control, so I just watch and wait…

Has that ever happened to you?

Karima Hoisan
June 1, 2020
Costa Rica

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Fluid Reality

Hi everyone,

I invite you to watch and listen to this little video poem I made about all that we have been through recently…but in a more metaphysical way. I hope you will watch it and enjoy. I made subtitles in Español for my friends and family in Costa Rica and all who use them.
Enjoy!!

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