Tuesday, September 1, 2026

A NETTLE BRANCH ENTERS THROUGH THE WINDOW

Note: I feel this translation flows better and keeps more in the spirit of the original


A NETTLE BRANCH ENTERS THROUGH THE WINDOW by Andre Breton (translated by John Adams)

The woman with the papered pose 

The golden tench of chimneys

Whose memory is made of a multitude of small watering troughs

For ships in the distance

And who laughs like a small piece of ember embedded in the snow

And who sees herself grow and diminish at night on accordion steps

The armor of herbs, the handle of the dagger's door

She who descends from the sequins of the sphinx 

She who puts wheels on the Danube's armchair

She for whom space and time tear apart in the evening when the watchman's eye flickers like an elf

Is not the prize in the battle my dreams wage?

Brittle bird

That nature stretches on telegraph wires in trances

And that capsizes on the great lake of its many songs

She is the double heart of the lost mural

Where the grasshoppers of blood cling, dragging along my mirrored appearance, my hands of fault lines

My caterpillar eyes, my hair of black whales 

of whale bones sealed in black sparkling wax


UNE BRANCHE D'ORTIE ENTRE PAR LA FENÊTRE by Andre Breton

La femme au corps de papier peint

La tanche rouge des cheminées

Dont la mémoire est faite d'une multitude de peris abreuvoirs

 Pour les navires au loin

Et qui rit comme un peu de braise qu'on aurait enchâssée dans la neige

Et qui se voit grandir et diminuer la nuit sur des pas d'accordéon

La cuirasse des herbes la poignée de la porte des poignards

Celle qui descend des paillettes du sphinx

Celle qui met des roulettes au fauteuil du Danube

Celle pour qui l'espace et le temps se déchirent le soir quand le veilleur de son œil vacille comme un elfe

N'est pas l'enjeu du combat que se livrent mes rêves Oiseau cassant

Que la nature tend sur les fils télégraphiques des transes

 Et qui chavire sur le grand lac de nombres de son chant 

Elle est le double cœur de la muraille perdue 

A laquelle s'agrippent les sauterelles du sang 

Qui traînent mon apparence de miroir mes mains faille

Mes yeux de chenilles mes cheveux de longues baleines noires

De baleines cachetées d'une cire étincelante

Saturday, January 17, 2026

Cascade

Cascade


A mountain crumbles against sky.

A small leaf gently falters.

The gray fog passes by 

like dreams in sequence,

one by one.

The brave trees, the granite walls,

The rising Sun crashing into time; 

A morning in sorrow.

Altruistic shadows that creep sideways.

The sword of summer 

penetrating daylight.

The smallest thought

held like a seed

blossoming in the hand

like light or thunder.

Thursday, September 25, 2025

Future Mirrors

 


Future Mirrors 

Cool are the winter cresses

In the oblique melancholy

A white statue crumbles into chalk

There is no more news today

Some final clippings were left hanging

On an old mottled clothes line

Listen to the silent doves

A grandfather clock is a bear ripping open

Doorways into infinitum

Listen to the silent doves

A grapefruit is a world turning in the hand 

As you catch your ghost-half retreating in mirrors

A violent monsoon writes poetry on shores

As letter openers cut into midnight

Unfurling the stagnant portal

Fate is always non-negotiable

Against the great magnetic oceans

Wednesday, July 23, 2025

Vibrant Rain

Windows that remember our faces

They let the cool air in 

With a sense of subliminal mystery

All the unseen chatter

Settles like dwindling rain

Long is the night

Still cool and fraught with envy

As shadows crawl back into bed

Skin glistens in restless moonlight 

Fingers move slowly as if clouds across sky

The anodized streets are impressionistic 

Unapproached for fear of them disappearing

Have you ever seen freedom? 

It may only exist inside of love

Fantasy is the unknown caller

Strident but ghost-like it moves 

Straight through the ether

When the rain is over 

Sleep comes with ease



Thursday, July 3, 2025

In Feathers

 In Feathers


Weightless, our names are written in sky.

Invisible, love inhabits the clouds

—an arrangement of notes played over velvet laid mountains.

As uncommon words are dreamed into playful worlds becoming eternity's more subtle plans.

Unknowingly, our lives intertwine in loops and mazes, lost in incrystal configurations.

Where does a soul silently sleep? If it can be called alone, somewhere else in memory.

The night is an infinite diamond.

And you are the chrysalis in formation.

Dressed in only naked feathers.

Monday, June 23, 2025

When the Heart Dreams

The heart dreams on silver screens 

Lost in cotton days of youth 

Marbled tides emulsify in foamy whispers

And give way to granite feet

Into unmade beds we go head first

Thoughts a little electric like children 

Chandeliers play in winds

Like piano keys 

We drift through enchanted rains

And drive through fields of heaven's stars 

Where willows whip and flowers unfurl

Underneath the gentle truth of Spring

Monday, February 17, 2025

Like a Chrysalis in Time

 When convinced of one reality, 

Such that no other reality can take place...


That soft light, oh soft light, finds itself trapped 

Languishing amongst the leaves

She has passed that last corridor

Of forlorned memory

It isn't that hard to find beauty

In the simplest of things like love and truth

Give yourself wings

Fly into a new oblivion

The world is not all contained inside one slumbered eye

Just as you thought of cerulean whispers

Love lies caught like a chrysalis in time

But always somehow returns to that warm and familiar place

You make your own infinity or let it go  

Everything can be taken for granted

—innocent hearts, 

drowned like a waterfall,

or a seed left to grow 

 into rumbling silence. 

Make way for the inevitable revolution.

Love's Violin

Love's Violin
A bird in the rain