Palimpsest - LXIII

Faze muito frío mas estoy muito nu,
calentado por un fogo interno
e impelido por una visón
do que huvisse podido ser.

It is very cold but I am very naked,
warmed by an inner fire
and driven by a vision
of what could have been.

I invite translations of my Gymniad series into other languages. The poems are unrhymed, and there are six of them at present, plus a couple of commentary entries. I'll give translator credit, and will barter other translation work that I can do (preferably into English, which is my native language). Please consider it. Thanks.

Gymniad - VI

Nakedness is not only
pleasant and healthy,
it is the identity
that we have forgotten.
It is essential,
it is natural,
and it is joy.

Commentary on Gymniad - III

Another thing that I did not understand is that humans, alone among all creatures, are ashamed of our sexuality. Such an attitude is not natural: it had to be taught. History does not take us back very far, but it is safe to say that we have labored under this burden of shame for thousands of years.

Why was such shame spread, and even enforced? Why did we have to be squeezed into a mold of the unnatural? Who stood to gain by such a perversion of our nature? I submit that it was, again, the patriarchal forces that came into prominence after the agricultural revolution. Those patriarchal, machista men had already perverted love and sex in their own lives, and they were ashamed. They were, in other words, ashamed of themselves.

Coming more into times that we are familiar with, we are met with the biblical prohibitions against allowing ones "nakedness" to be seen (even by family), and Paul's sad, anti-sexual attitudes. These trends unfortunately increased, and were enforced with ever-greater ferocity during the "Middle Ages" in Europe.

But we do not have to be like that. For the sake of our mental, physical, and emotional health, let us reject all that is not natural, and begin again to truly love.

Up with the Parrots

Up with the parrots, turn on computer, make ma-te, check the weather (forecast high 21/71, make no appointments today), check the pulse of the old country. It still has one. Make breakfast, eat breakfast. Check pulse again, coming out of coma. Wash dishes. Stack firewood. Trim backyard vines, rake leaves from pool cover. Check pulse again. Condition guarded. Put clothes on. Take yard and trash waste to dumpster. Go shopping and pay bills. Walk the dog.. Take clothes off. Outside, the leaf-cutter ants have blazed a trail and are carrying leaves. Rain coming. Bring in another wheelbarrow-load of firewood. Feed the dog. Fix second meal. Thank Heavens (God/Goddess) for good Uruguayan wine and frozen Schneckburgers (grass-fed, no hormones). Find time to write. Thank Heavens for my nakedness. Thank Heavens for Irish whiskey. Thank Heavens that I'm retired.

He Comes In With the Sun

He comes in with the sun, the schizophrenic beggar-artist, at eight a.m. There are no warning sirens. Through the peep-hole, only the glare of the sun, possibly intentional, but I know it's him. The doorbell isn't working, he will not stop clapping. I throw on a robe and open the door. I see him out by the fence. "Not today," I say. "Okay, man, okay." He goes away.

It's too late to go back to bed. It's too early for everything else, especially this.

The Stars and Stripes

The stars and stripes
are being dragged
through filth
by a rogue and racist
President who was
handed the office
by another country
so that he
could be
their useful
fool.
His racist father
would be proud,
but we
are not.