*
I press hard
most of the times
my whole
life to go beyond
.
to detach myself
from disappointment
transcending
into the essence
.
.
.
*
I press hard
most of the times
my whole
life to go beyond
.
to detach myself
from disappointment
transcending
into the essence
.
.
.
*
the minute
I had to convince you
I was worthy
I should have noted it
was the day it
was over
.
.
.
*
I have worn shoes
covered with trails
dust sticking loud
louder than my long
path of silence I
have asked to see
the way I could tread
barefoot as in a dream
where roads aren’t
hard where people
say without speaking
love is reverence
.
.
.
..
.
*
poetry falls
as pigment
on wet paper
.
creating a world
of beauty
.
marveling
at the smooth
escape door
.
.
.
*
just before
I breathed in I was
breathing out
I run to this
place to be with you
you seem aloof
to life or to give
anything out afraid
even to receive
I play with the birds
trills as people rush
home from work
.
.
.
This poem is part of the collection California Notebooks 02
.
*
let’s sow kindness
even if we no more
like people let’s
.
.
.
*
I write
a ladder
to heaven
upward
I hold
as seen
in my morning
dream
.
.
.
*
essere stesi
non sapendo
.
ma seguendo
il raggio col dito
l’occhio assopito
le schegge nel buio
.
dimenticate nel sasso
che tengo in tasca
.
.
.
*
mind not to make
assumptions about
the man you love
not to project on him
the beauty you hold
or wish to be there
.
.
.
*
the light will hit you
gloriously when in the midst
of nothing you’ll see
everything
.
.
*
to know the weight
of my heart through
my eyes you can see
.
how it makes my life
difficult the flight over
troubled landscapes
.
I’ve that anchor inside
that sinks me like a spade
deep into the human
.
.
.
*
my feelings this time
don’t want to stay on
paper or even reach it
there’s is a modesty
to them as they rise
from my aging family
I move from pangs
of anxious pain to
serenity as giving
honor to vulnerability
brought forth a new
sweetness to be
savored alone
.
.
.
*
learn not to judge
just look at things
let them sink in as
images in a mirror
.
.
.
*
awakening to
having no
choice that
to have a job
that holds me
between the earth
and the sky
*
dry leaves scattered
on the summer tall grass
unable to move
.
dead to
themselves ready
to mulch
.
withal giving
.
.
.
.