*
I’m formless yet
so worried about
doing and looking
forgetting the sweetness
of being alive forsaking
god somewhere on my
own map of events
duties and having to have
being liked and praised
endless strife if I could
just stop it a minute
to get – that craved
drink of fresh water
transparent and true
on the shore of
consciousness
.
.
.
.
.
*
.
a petal can lead to
an expanse of flowers
.
of poetry and lightness
surprisingly colored
.
to an internal suburban world
projecting me with telescopic
.
vision towards the earth I who
believe to be above it
.
within not yet under
I who believe and know no more
.
I who believe ever more that
I am and nothing else matters
.
who loves to live an atom
at a time my own explosion
.
.
(translated by Bonnie Mcclellan-Broussard. The original version and the AUDIO versions to both the Italian and English poems can be found at http://wp.me/phPCu-If)
.
.
.
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annamosca 