*
I unfold my dreams
wet from the tiresome
night and their secret
coding drilling me
under the light of day
spread out line after line
.

*
I unfold my dreams
wet from the tiresome
night and their secret
coding drilling me
under the light of day
spread out line after line
.
*
maybe here is
the land of poems
coming as I can’t
wake up dozing
between steps
squinting tighter
feeling everything
deep inside of me
.
*
was dreaming of
sunny awakenings
sweet cuddling and
words few – tight together
was getting out to say
.
good morning – gratitude
will not fail me
a smile in spite
of everything
.
I will hold
happiness
between
my hands
.
.
*
I do not comb my hair
messed up by sleep nor
my thoughts tangled
.
I don’t follow others’ words
my dreams hold me down
I stumble among slow steps
.
.
.
*
I dreamed my secret name
yes it was written
on a white stone
everything was crystal
clear then just like
the sky today harmony
coated and I felt so
relaxed so sleepy
.
I fell into another night
when I woke up I could
not make out the writing
and I got news of more
deaths more killings
more drowning crimes
.
if I could if I just could
tell everybody their
secret names
waking them up to life
.
.
.
.
8.
some dreams are infinite it takes
but a few words to evoke those
emotions are a whole sea of waves
useless to separate them to make
some sense just a few words
can take you to sea free the page
among waves and winds
let the reader fly
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
.
*
sognare è qualcosa
per cui vivo e quando
vivo mi sembra di sognare
tu questa cosa non l’hai
mai capita tranne una volta
ormai non ti vedevo da
mesi mi hai sognata tutta
arancione ed ero bellissima
mi hai detto ecco una volta
ti sei lasciato scappare
che ero bellissima
.
.
.
*
and then
there was that
truck fading away
into the curve after
having committed a
crime I witnessed
I knew I could be
of help if I memorized
the plate but I could
remember only three
numbers and its
shape – none
when I woke up
.
.
.
*
I cannot be richer than
on summer nights
deep in silence
and beauty
open wide open
window mind soaring
above a few clouds strolling
by the moon
the language of nature
whispering to me the
dreams to come
.
.
.
This poem is part of the newly published collection California Notebooks 02
.
.
12.
clouds have covered the whole
day slowing down my rhythm
I walk as barefoot on carpet
placing words carefully
dozing off a bit hanging
poetic moments behind my eyes
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
.
8.
some dreams are infinite it takes
but a few words to evoke those
emotions are a whole sea of waves
useless to separate them to make
some sense just a few words
can take you to sea free the page
among waves and winds
let the reader fly
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
.
*
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
.
.
.
.