The Poetry of José M. Tirado

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Presented by Gary Corseri

Unexpected Magnitudes

There is barely a hum in this fog night of dampness.
The full moon mocks the miserable, no matter the cause.
And more cold is felt rummaging for joyful memories, than these
twin, broken hands
Reaching deep for some pocketed warmth find.
It wasn’t always this way.
Sometimes whole days would pass without mention of the sad,
Or even the lowly rising up of pain to
Draw down the curtain of solitary certitude.
No, it wasn’t always like this.
There have been gigantic summer joys cemented by love,
Deep into the flat pavement he once walked and lived on.
Sudden moments, ones not tied to seasons. Grand, without mistakes.
Always unexpected.

Some Simple Pleasures at Work  

A wind whistles through baby frames of homesites
Laughing like song.
The morning roach coach coffee rush greets
Calloused hands as scratchy music scuffs up the air.
The bricks, the paint, the dust breeze,
Still, at twelve o’clock I sleep in the sun.

Cry the Moon

In the solitary stickiness of night,
I cry the moon,
half-lit, hanging low
in the blackened dome above
From morning to every early eve,
I mark my days
with buried sighs
and tears that fall
on this face
once bright,
now fading,
now faraway

In the End, What Will Really Count

As sweet as your
Comforting home will be,
Your hands will still touch
The private suffering
Of personal voices.

The Sinuous Strands of Warm Songs and Morning Dreams

If only I could touch
That blue-black
Velvet darkness
Above the dawn,
And coil myself in her,
I would walk the world
In knowledge.

Rev. José M. Tirado is a poet, priest, psychologist, and political writer finishing a PhD in psychology while living in Iceland. His articles and poetry have been featured in CounterPunch, The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, Dissident Voice, Swan’s Commentary, The Endless Search, Gurdjieff Internet Guide, and others. He may be reached through his website.

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