Tag Archives: death

To The End


we all walk
bundled up on
winter days
but the dogs

jump for joy

the old man
will not sit by
his fire he takes
himself out

slowly stretching
his steps next
to the lines
of poplars

he will walk to
the end not
a thought
of surrender



2013-10-26 15.07.44


Being, from the California Notebooks 02 (EN/IT)


This poem – from the newly finished collection California Notebooks 02 – is dedicated to my dear friend Anna Maria who just stepped into everlasting life after much suffering due to cancer.


being there
one day

where the sound
of butterflies wings

could be heard
stretched on a smile

attentive to my
body changes

on the awe of gratitude
cracking away

a bit at a time
to deeper life


Questa poesia – tratta dalla nuovissima collezione California Notebooks 02 – è dedicata alla cara, dolcissima, amica Anna Maria, appena passata a vita migliore dopo una lunga sofferenza dovuta al cancro.


un giorno

dove il suono delle
ali delle farfalle

può essere ascoltato
disteso su un sorriso

vigile ai mutamenti
del mio corpo

stupore della gratitudine
mi incrino un poco

alla volta a vita
più profonda




Not Rosaries Nor Missals – Evening Breeze, 2016



I end up at times
visiting old friends
dinners stretching

over time feeding
our souls
the privilege

of recalling
the spirit’s

our hearts
a candle burning

steadily shaking
in the evening
breeze leaves

we are made
to fall and to die
full of colors

when it’s season






“Not Rosaries Nor Missals” is a collections of poems started on July 2013. The poems, about a spiritual journey, have the habit of popping up here, for a maximum count of seven, in July of each year.

The older poems of the collection can be found, and read, using the search window to the right of this screen.



Hands – Eulogies 2014


when dad died they
clothed him for funeral

his hands so beautiful
crossed over his chest
they were the only thing

talking of him to me

I took a picture my
relatives anger rose
I could not avoid that

I haven’t seen it once

that picture it’s hiding
away to be gazed at on
a day when I’ll accept

distance or enjoy
closeness where
will my hands

go when I die

not on my chest
nor on my belly
for that short

time of the viewing
a sense of lack

of no more breath

a heaviness not favoring
digestion nor straight aside
as a soldier of whose army

2014-06-24 20.12.50




The London Hours, 2012


It’s being back in fog
in a spring day
It’s waiting to take off
a wet wet coat
It’s being put back in time
face down on the shore
waves and waves
against and afar
putting me under
letting me out
as if there isn’t an end
I cannot reach you
I can only fathom how
you looked like
I have only memories
and loops
moving around my hips
shake your body
rotate look up the arms
rings on fingers
heavier around my head
Everyone comes back
these days
Everywhere I turn I
Every moment we spent
Death is a hole


painplainfully – December 2011




skin sagging into sweetness


trembling lips under teary eyes

moving away as clouds

shadows lingering

hands covered with landscape

furrows plowed

a voice ceasing

old age and the facing of death

no more sounds

iced silence on a frozen scape