Justyna joins the Poeticians.


My beautiful, tender and surprising flat mate, Justyna, is a rock star. In so many ways. Her many levels of talents include hard core corporate work, hardcore sports, painting, dancing and occasionally cooking delicious food. Lo and behold, one day she whipped out a few papers, and said, look, poetry. I was delighted, of course, since her many talents also included listening to me endlessly whining about life and smoking too many cigarettes on our balcony while debating how many shiny things we can buy for the house. Now we had more than commiseration and capoeira in common, we had poetry. Her writing evolves and moves me and grows and is beautiful to listen to, midday, unexpectedly, and I cannot wait for our next Poetician event for her to unleash new work on the community. Obrigado, lovely JJ. Pour tout.


These dark beans from fields of wrath
Grind in the mill of my stomach mill
My fine anger espresso brews black
Brews thick
Brews strong
Drip… drip… drip
Into my heart paper cup
Aromas of vengeance
Pull at my nostrils dripping grief
White sugar cubed soul
First takes its black colour
And then dissolves
I want to savor this bitter taste
Roll the black on my tongue
Smoother my pity and defeat
I want to feed caffeine to my revenge
Give jolt to my dark purpose
Boost schemes to action
But the current wanes
And all that remains
Are the wet tasteless grains
Of a failed love affair.


Forgive me father
For forgetting
The land of your forefathers
For not knowing
Our blood knowledge

The soil was too loose
To hold the roots
Of your name

The currents too strong
To lull the sands
Of our memories

Forgive me mother
That I don’t bother
To mother sons and daughters

They escape me
Like you did
Maybe for the same reasons.


The smell of wood, cold, mountains, stream
Blend into an aroma of you
You on the stairs, waving, smiling
To our audience of beliefs
Here you began my childhood romance with history
Where folklore was our religion
Where songs were our timeless ritual
Not to be sung but joined and then departed
The ritual river continuing in her melody
The water and heat are still not here
Their absence still failing to make this house our home
Nothing but an outpost of family lineage
The mountains and stream its eternal guards
Only now, even I am a stranger to their watchful eyes.


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