By Adolf Caso

When an idea comes to me

to  be accomplished in the future

I speak of it in the present

as though it already is

accepted and praised.

And this is the beginning

of the glory

of self-inflated moments

and of daydreams unfulfilled.

Though I quite realize it,

I give in to dreaming:

I fabricate the best of castles,

invent string-held bombs in air

as mines against the planes,

and visualize

                   the world

into one nation.

But when I go beyond,

an itch or noise

brings me back

as a weak point or pin

in a floating balloon.


      By Adolf Caso

I see spring in your eyes--

vast areas of green


swaggering off springs

with touches of dew.

Then summer ablaze

and the harvest reaped.

With autumn,

the entwining

and the sweet melancholy--

moments of warmth


into tepid feelings

of a sun setting.

Then winter comes to your eyes,

and how clear this winter is

though your eyes are green.