*
it’s the beauty we hold
and carelessly wear around
what we’ll be missing more
I’ve been that route
bumps holes and crevices
known to me if you’ll let me
stop the nonsense and hold
dear what we have
.
.
.
This poem is part of the collection California Notebooks
.
.
October Sundays are dedicated to Italian Poetry.
*
posso risalire
senza scivolare
con la poesia
non è ansia ma
parola attenta
precisa nel suono
e nello spazio
mi ferma una mano
.
.
.
Tuesday Poems will be in English as usual.
Sì, la domenica le poesie saranno in italiano!
*
if you do respond
to light innuendos
if you do understand
the spaces within
and the white around
if you say a lot with
your silences then
poetry is light and
simplicity – it’s a gentle
laugh at the scoffing
of the learned – it’s
what lifts you up –
not what shows off
.
.
.
.
October Sundays are dedicated to Italian Poetry.
*
essere senza tempo
così mi sento
impazzisco dentro
i legami forti
di accordi non miei
necessari dicono
perché ci si incontri
perché accada qualcosa
vorrei tornare al tutto
compreso dentro me
vorrei avere il nulla
come ricchezza
conoscere davvero
prima del tic e dopo
il tac noi si girava
comunque intorno
al sole noi si parlava
anche con Dio
.
.
.
Tuesday Poems will be in English as usual.
Sì, la domenica le poesie saranno in italiano!
.
*
driving in the dark
surrounded by fog
better use trust
the season has come
plowing the clouds
to unveil the land
suspended in
to everlasting
radiance
.
.
.
.
.
*
perhaps I live eternally
beyond the world’s borders
without realizing
those limits useless talks
and mean chit-chats
laid out as spider webs
perhaps I fly protected
in the blinding light
and at night I cry
cause I did not grasp it
.
.
.
This poem is part of the newly published collection California Notebooks 02
.
.
*
approaching the day
with dancing
thoughts
to linger in god’s
presence
light
that stays with me
at night
and in my slumber
.
.
.
This poem is part of the newly published collection California Notebooks 02
.
.
*
I realize we
do not need more
cosmic abstractions
nor painful flights
to the Himalayas tip
for the misty fog
that sometimes
surrounds us in
a cage of boredom
to wane at the sound
of us being liberated
as we simply focus
on what we know
now that we didn’t
know last week
.
.
.
.
*
something to do with measures
unknown
to others the length
of my despair whether is
it by nature, mine
or a not understanding of facts
of the jokes
among men, their secret bets
their sudden shoulders
and all was lived
and built, all that had an essence
to dust them off
to cough them up
it’s all forgotten
at once.
I don’t seem
to understand other’s
measures, the sense of
their steps, it’s long
far from me.
.
.
.
From the collection of The London Hours, 2012.
.
*
routine is good
a shelter to my heart
a time of secret
tenderness
went to swim in the morning
new beauty welcomed me
piercing the sound
underwater
large the company
joyful exile
.
.
.
From the collection The London Hours, 2012.
.
*
nostalgia dei primi
odori americani
.
di teli bianchi perfetti
mossi da un lieve vento
.
noi a ridere nudi
a raccontarci la vita
.
appena iniziata
insieme, non sapevamo quanto
.
.
Un volo oltre, Luglio 2013.
.
*
I will close this page
and put it away
I will have a look
at such light
lingering
I will stand eventually
get up and displace
myself in a busy store
drunk in sounds and souls
I will pick you up
later when this
wind ceases
one more time
running uphill
.
.
From the collection “The London Hours”, 2012.
.
*
white wellness
welcomed within
.
quietness
a silence seek
.
nearly no movement
a mussel in a shell
.
I hear love
surging
.
if I could
stay forever
.
fractions
.
.
.
From the collection The London Hours, 2012.
.
.
*
mid day of August’s
mid month some echoes
of a church service
on a television where
there are very few visions
a small breeze rises
awakening me to
a tiny drip drop
a small precipitation
into myself until
an airplane breaks
the clouds in two
.
.
.
.
*
my creed is this
got to make life a nest
while it last as
I grow my wings to
leave it soaring
fending the air upward
.
.
.
.
.
.
