Feliz Dia del Maestro y Bienvenidas las Vacaciones!

26 May

Un año más, misión cumplida. Apenas estoy a seis días para comenzar mis vacaciones.¡ Bien merecidas!

A todos los maestros de mis patria, ¡ Felicidades!

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what time is it?
it is by every star a different time,
and each most falsely true;
or such subhuman superminds declare...

-nor all their times encompass me and you.

when are we never, but forever now
(hosts of eternity; not guests of seem),
believe me dear,
clocks have enough to do without confusing timelessness and time.

Time cannot children, poets, lovers tell. measure imagine, mystery, a kiss...

-not though mankind would rather know than feel,
mistrusting utterly that timelessness,

whose absence would make your whole life and my

(and infinite our)

merely to undie.

one winter afternoon
(at the magical hour
when is becomes if)

a bespangled clown
standing on eight street
handed me a flower.

Nobody, it's safe to say,
observed him but myself.
and why?
because without any doubt he was
what ever (first and last)
most people fear most:
a mystery for which I've no word
except alive...

-that is, completely alert
and miraculously whole;
with no merely a mind
and a heart
but unquestionably a soul-

by no means funerally hilarious
(or otherwise democratic)
but esencially poetic
or ethereally serious:

a fine not a coarse clown
(no mob, but a person)
and while never saying a word
who was anything but dumb
since the silence of himself
sang like a bird.

Most people have been heard
screaming for international
measures that render hell rational

-i thank heaven someone's crazy
enough to give me a daisy.

all worlds have halfsight, seeing either with

life'eye (which is if things seem spirits) or
(if spirits in the guise of things appear)
death's any world must always half perceive.

Only whose vision can create the whole

(being forever born a foolishwise
proudhumble citizen of ecstasies
more steep than climb can time with all his years)

he's free into the beauty of the truth;

and strolls the axis of the universe
-love. Each believing world denies, whereas
your lover (looking through both life and death)

timelessly celebrates the merciful

wonder no world deny may or beleive.

how many moments must (amazing each
how many centuries) these more than eyes
restroll and stroll some never deepening beach

locked in forevershish time's tide at poise,

love alone undersatnds: only from who
i'll keep my tryst until that tide shall turn;
and from all selfsubstracting hugely doom
treasures of reeking innocence are born.

Then with not credible the anywhere
eclipsing of a spirit's ignorance
by every wisdom knowledge fears to dare,

how the(myself''s own self who's) child will dance!

and when he's plucked such mysteries men
do not conceive- let ocean grow again.