A SELECTION OF POEMS BY JOSE M. TIRADO
Presented by Gary Corseri
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.
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
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
Above the dawn,
And coil myself in her,
I would walk the world
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.