Tag Archives: french riviera

News and Update On California Notebooks

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News and Update On The California Notebooks

Hello every one, as some of you know California Notebook – the book – is soon to come out! Magic happens. It’s like you are in a big dark storm, yes – lately my life has been quite complicated – and all of a sudden you see that glimpse of light, that gold ray coming through. Wow.Desert pics close up watermarked copy
The project started with an unexpected trip to California, a couple of years ago, to the southern desert of the Coachella Valley, in the middle of the summer. Ah, was that a wise choice? Not to the plain mind but I followed my intuition. The heat and the light stroke me silent and I started to observe all that was around me, how my emotions were responding to it. Well, that is what a poet does, and I’ve been a poet for quite a while. I’ve also been a photographer for a long time and having taught photography for years I was now playing with vintage photographs. The desert was really photogenic, no doubt.

When I returned home to Italy I was changed and I could not stop thinking about the magic atmosphere I had just experienced. desert tripod smile smallI did some work at the Art Academy in Milan where I had been teaching, took care of my student’s fall semester exams, and took off again to California. You must know it’s a trend of mine, this one, to travel to chase the light that showers on foreign places, to collect photos of this miracle and then to set up some art shows in Italy. A few years earlier I started to combine poetry with photography and The London Hours turned out to be a great book. Some of the poems were published right here – on this blog – and were chosen for some video poetry and public performances.

Then many more collections followed, most of them published here on line, of the Italian Riviera light, of the French Riviera light, of some Italian lakes light and so on. I must admit Southern France had its spell on me for a long time. That is the land where the Impressionist drank the light in and came up with such innovations in art and it’s a photographer’s heaven. For several years I rented a studio on the coast and crossed the border that was not a border any longer. Now it’s the California Notebooks turn.

Trips unto silence, meditation and peace, basking in the boldest light. Walks into the desert and into one’s soul and memories. I know some people just don’t get it, but many of us do, considering the numbers of my beloved subscribers. Thank you for traveling this road with me! The life of an artist it’s fascinating and it’s also a destiny I believe. It’s not like I can walk away from it and do something else without feeling miserable because I’m trying a 9-5 job, with paid vacations and sick days. I work constantly and try to stay healthy, plus creating is like taking a trip toward a better life, mine and yours I hope. I love to enrich myself spiritually to be able to share with others.

BRIANZA BOOK FESTIVAL 2015 by Gianluca Carrara copySo, this summer I’ve grown a nice garden in Italy, did some good public readings on the California Notebooks in several places and walked up the impervious road of an elderly relative’s sickness. I never took a break, had no vacation, never visited my beloved Mediterranean sea once. Instead I’ve done a lot of planting, feeding and worked on the book; it will be a good one.

I will keep you posted on the progresses, meanwhile please let me hear from you, it will be nice. Are you rejoicing with me and will partake of this?

💫 Grateful you are enjoying what I share weekly, I love having you here!

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Intertextures – Crossing Rivieras

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I will walk away from
the crowd and their buzzing
finding an island to float serene
on away from cravings
looks and strong odors
to my own shadow
well defined

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Intertextures – Crossing Rivieras

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silence is underrated
I like to have it all around
and inside me
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looking at pictures
that captured the long
gone silence with an echo
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space often holds on silence
they both happen as magic

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Intertextures – Crossing Rivieras

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seams are the waves
over the world’s rim
as most think land
is all there is
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I didn’t tread on this
awesome ground yesterday
lost breathing in the sea mist
and the sky asks me what is God
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at every interval
in every dip or anything
that occupy space is free
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I am boundless

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Intertextures – Crossing Rivieras

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it’s a hard switch
from listing a dumpster
of emotion to observing the
less visited bay of serenity
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having very few words
at use for such new place
and fear of letting enthusiasm
out a kite flying high
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people born unhappy
turn green under a dark
cloud if you let happiness
out but why changing them
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yet I know some are here
now craving for news from
outer places words as rare
pearls bright near the heart

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Intertextures – Crossing Rivieras

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some children still
enjoy looking out of a bus
window searching trains
trucks more than the blue sea
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exulting at what
we have lost sight for
memorizing every street
name while we tired sit
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unconscious among furrowed
brows sore and deluded a curtain
on our window to shun away the light
we who like to walk on our own feet

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Intertextures – Crossing Rivieras

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I’m wrapped tight to this
coast that turns my gaze
toward the open sea and
nails me to the hills
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will I say I loved a place
and it would not let go
of me I was a slave who
felt free to go it will
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enchant me every time
I returned to its ancient
route and moved in
the eternal under current
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Intertextures – Crossing Rivieras

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shall I describe to anyone
now or when I’m old
the many bosoms of
the Mediterranean gulfs
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that fill my heart periodically
since I was fourteen I think
I would have not imagined
to be here still after all
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I visited the metropolis
I lived in and left as a capricious
gets tired of lovers the oceans
I crossed the skies I consumed
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I keep on being called here
to have my days emptied
to skim thoughts to the bones
to love those bones

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Intertextures – Crossing Rivieras

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I’ve made this bus
my temporary office
to move along to travel
having hands free from
the wheel and peripheral view
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each same kilometer
new emotions and sights
for how long I’m not sure
being carried as a young child
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curious the same connecting
dots and thoughts fleeting as
clouds in the wind subject
to weather conditions
missing none
.
me in a time capsule
while you sleep exploring
the world around me no one
speaks Italian the coast has been
covered with bodies of immigrants

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