*
before is the bird’s
song and the occasional
car passing by
then the refrigerator
freezing while shaking
the hot water boiler
or an airplane
far away the mailman
comes dropping
volumes of papers
we need to lift glance
at a minute then dispose
that’s how days roll
away how solitude
serves me well
.
.
.
This poem is from the California Notebook collection, available in paper book and digital format.
*
in between loving cats
and feeding elders
roaming paths
it was the caressing
with my eyes of the olive
trees barks twisted by
the winds and the lack
of water – is that the look
my soul has – she had no
idea life was business
to attend same the church
and the cats and the elderly
.
.
This poem is part of the collection Not Rosaries Nor Missals.
–
*
they panic no one
around the streets
.
no one in their cars
no noise nor pollution
.
they keep the tv loud
letting anger lash out
.
or let despair cover
their trapped bodies
.
they weep the chance
they resist they curse
.
.
.
*
Incontro un piccolo cane,
frenetico, affamato.
.
Si affonda nella spazzatura.
.
Disperazione, tenerezza,
pianto, le nostre miserie,
.
che lui incorpora ingoiando
immondizia, impudico.
.
Lui senza vergogna.
.
.
Inedita, Italy, 2011.
*
Ci ascoltavamo
senza parlare.
.
La lentezza
dello sguardo
dava alla
nostra storia
un ritmo lento
diluito.
.
Conoscevamo
orizzonti
fuori
dall’inquadratura.
.
Mettevamo a fuoco
ogni cosa e forse
lì
ci siamo spaventati.
.
.
Tratta da Imputami il peccato di voler sopravvivere – Ottobre 2010.
.
*
I knew the hardest
was not being locked in
but the coming out
the count of the missing
ones their blinders
down as you take your
long missed stroll
.
that time has not arrived yet
.
but the count has
started once you get time
at hand the socials
platforms open up some
profiles have black
some tears and weeping
so far is two at day
.
way too high the number
of my friends who are no more
we are still on lock down
.
April is the cruelest month
I dare to strongly hope
.
.
*
Il cielo
non lo scorgevamo
gli occhi
chiusi sul desiderio
sdraiati nel cerchio
misterioso
già odoravamo di pane
occupavamo il tempo
ci riempivamo le mani
di carezze e il corpo
occupato uno con l’altro
credeva d’essere
altrove
.
.
Tratta da Colori Estivi, Giugno 2012.
.
*
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
.
.
.
*
a place where
is no expectations
from others to be
some kind of perfect
god under sunshine
to relax where
everything in its
natural beauty lines up
me not too big
nor too small
for some people
doors where
my key wasn’t fitting
may be one
of my crazy dreams
.
.
.
Reverberations, Unpublished, 2013.
*
I will walk away from
the crowds and their buzz
finding an island to float serene
on way away from cravings
looks and strong odors
to my own shadow
well defined
.
.
Poem from the unpublished collection Intertextures – Crossing Rivieras, 2013.
*
tonight
the moon is full
emptied from a thousand
engagements I lay in hot
water maybe illuminated
from the sky the silence
repose approaching
hidden from light
an upside down world
a somersault and a wriggle to
find myself wondering star under
inside some lights I turn off
before the thoughts – then the eyes
slightly vibrating
weightless in the space
I found within
*
it is right by the side
of the road the Cathedral
In The Pines Cemetery
as if you could just roll
off the side of the road
dead and ready to lay
where there are no fences
but some more noise to
endure or is it a reminder
when the sun hides
at sunset behind red
blood colored clouds
.
*
I will close this page
and put it away
I will have a look
at such light
lingering
I will stand eventually
get up and displace
myself in a busy store
drunk in sounds and souls
I will pick you up
later when this
wind ceases
one more time
running uphill
.
.
From the collection “The London Hours”, 2012.
.
*
my favorite occupation
has been that of
listening to silence
to give shapes
to music singing
with my hands
on top of the colors
that lay already there
to tiptoe in-love
slowing down
my responses
to evade darkness
into the beauty held
inside as the harmony
viable all around
.
.
.
Poem from California Notebooks 01
.
Sunday’s posts are dedicated to Italian Poetry
*
non voglio
che nessuno muoia senza
un po’ di poesia
un tono
d’amore o compassione
passione
ti auguro
l’urgenza di valicare
questa
soglia
mentre sei nella tua dimora una
bella pelle
desiderando che
arrivi quel tocco dall’alto
.
.
.
Tuesday Poems will be in English as usual.
Sì, la domenica le poesie saranno in italiano!
Questa poesia fa parte della nuova opera California Notebooks 02
