*
January mornings
wake up slowly
.
in spite of long stretches
yawns and chilly air
.
everything deep in sleep
so is everyone
.
like a colorless dream
dipped in silence
.
.
*
January mornings
wake up slowly
.
in spite of long stretches
yawns and chilly air
.
everything deep in sleep
so is everyone
.
like a colorless dream
dipped in silence
.
.
*
it’s an afterward
moving
this of giving poetry
a way
to talk about the beauty
lingering
unseen
sensitivity shining
bright
in our darker days
when we
think there’s little
to be seen
.
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Poem from the second volume of the book California Notebooks 02. If you wish to gift yourself, or someone else, a discounted copy click here. I would love to find a review from you. Best Wishes!
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*
forever is to renew
what I already have
every day
.
.
.
*
the volume of the sky
above me and the land
stretching from my feet
.
.
.
.
Coming Soon!
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*
it seems some days
that the sun moves
at a faster speed
it raises for a kiss
as I get a cup of coffee
and let the cat out
I see them playing
together in the shiny
grass birds may
join too as I give
shape to new poetry
typing away
suddenly it taps
on the backyard for
a sad goodbye
as I sit speechless
.
.
.
.
*
showering
under the full moon
each drop a miniature
globe satellite revolving
my breath slowing
with each step
in the garden
eyelids lowering
under the rays
reflecting
.
.
.
.
.
I was trying to
dilate a dream
connecting deep
taking time
the early afternoon
was suddenly dark
fingers sinking
into it wrenching
walking the mind
dumbfound rounds
and rounds
sleepwalker
on a pitfall
a dive into
nothingness
an upside down
.
.
.
.
*
wellness downing
with the evening
lightly salty breeze
it’s a loud concert
around me waves
crashing every where
deep remote thunder
of the sea underneath
brought up by that
back and forth moving
crickets and cicadas
fighting for the solo
now that the city man
who couldn’t stop
talking has left
I’m laying on the cliff
open to the sky
a million pieces of
me scattered the last
rays of the day will
gather
.
.
.
.
More poems of this collection: “Crossing Rivieras” can be found on this blog with the search botton to your right.
*
from among the metal bars
escape the road runners
from the golf fields
I shall follow the other band
of elderly retired – those
who drive further into
the desert to sit time
at hand to watch the
migratory birds being
stopped by no borders
.
.
.
.
.
*
I quiver as the sun
comes back out
from behind the trees
I remember being
fifteen drenched in
too many questions
boiling over in the
heat of the sunshine
evaporating upward
leaving
room for silence
to fill each single
gap each crevice
.
.
.
.
.
Here it is!!!
For you, the English version of a short video of the conference held on May 21st 2016 in Italy on the “Focal Point” of my artistic walk. I was asked to explain to the public – in just 15 minutes – where, why and how Poetry and Photography merge in my personal search.
The conference, held in a beautiful location, the restored, historical, former King’s Waiting Room in the train station of Monza, was part of the Tenth Poetry Summit organized by Poesia Presente. I had a selection of my own photographic work showing in the background that you can view in this slide presentation.
Video starts with whispering so careful not to raise the volume too loud!
Will love to read your feed-backs and fell free to share the link. Enjoy it…
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*
can we talk
about the transparency
of the soul
its light
weight and odd lack
of shape
artists
maddening over it
one piece
at a time
being revealed yet not
always
.
.
.
.
.
*
I pick up words
as small daisies
on a spring field
careful to hold them
in small bunches
never as beautiful
as when first spotted
a memory of wonder
blushing as they close
around their meaning
covering the heart
shy of a truth near
enough for our dull spirit
to remember a note
or two
.
.
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This poem is in the first volume of “California Notebooks”. If you wish to get your own copy click here
.
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*
the magic of wondering
what can fingertips do
lightly flying over things
bringing messages back
as the wind over the valley
holding something with
the help of faithful thumb
to be carried closer to
our eyes to be admired
as mountains look at the stars
to be moved slowly
one against the other
to rejoice at the silky
dancing of senses
as the sky covers us to sleep
.
.
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This poems will be in a new collection, yet to be published, but the first volume of “California Notebooks” is out. To get your own copy click here
.
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