*
I load on beauty
between silences
those of plants and
lack of rain
these shivering
when reefers come
are not gossip or loud
news they are stanzas
needing spaces
in between needing
solid whites an invisible
bench to sit on
.
.
.
This poem is part of the collection California Notebooks 02
*
a river pouring
you are not rushing
to me poetry flows
out is hard to contain
I’ve no hands for that use
I’ve new eyes to embrace
strong legs clasped around
it’s an odd place wonderful
to be tell me what is
new today with you
*
what is a poem
but a hiding place
a launching board
to the sky a secret
green house where
to grow dreams to
water the sight of
the unseen to pick
eternity’s scent
.
.
.
*
I’ve learned
to be slow to react
and I let anything
nature has sink
in me to keep
me afloat
.
.
.
January Sundays are dedicated to Italian Poetry, and today is my birthday!
*
è un movimento
successivo
quello di dare alla poesia
un modo
di raccontare la bellezza
che si sofferma
non vista
fulgida sensibilità
luce
nei nostri giorni bui
quando
pensiamo che ci sia
ben poco da vedere
.
.
Tuesday Poems will be in English as usual.
Sì, la domenica le poesie saranno in italiano. E oggi è il mio compleanno!!!
Questa poesia fa parte della raccolta California Notebooks 02 in vendita da Feltrinelli.
*
I pick up words
as small daisies
on a spring field
careful to hold them
in small bunches
never as beautiful
as when first spotted
a memory of wonder
blushing as they close
around their meaning
covering the heart
shy of a truth near
enough for our dull spirit
to remember a note
or two
.
.
.
.
This poem is in the first volume of the “California Notebooks”. If you wish to get your own copy click here
.
*
I wish no one
to die without a hint
of poetry
a hue of love
compassion or
passion
I wish you
all the urge to cross
over this
threshold
while in your home
a nice skin
seeking a touch
from heaven to come
.
.
.
.
This poem is part of the collection, available on Amazon, California Notebooks 02
.
*
I’ve been sleeping
light lately as
a restless person
going in and out
from one room
into another mirrors
everywhere as I
searched for my
breath the metronome
of my temporary
existence
.
.
.
,
*
I’ve seen rain
stepping on the sea
incessantly tapping
not able to carve
ancient holes
as on rocks
because it
was welcomed
it was welcome
.
.
.
This poem is part of the collection California Notebooks
.
.
*
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
.
.
.
.
*
a road to nowhere
days spent habits piling
up where the sky
.
still shines and showers
.
light stopping thoughts
in your own steps
you wish home to be anywhere
.
.
.
.
.
.
*
it takes but
a few days for
the white layer
on the mountains
to melt at their feet
back to bare skin
.
.
.
.
.
*
having infinity
taking over me
that is my practice
in the desert
to rehearse boundless
to have a sip of
eternity once
in a while
.
.
.
.
*
when my words
surfacing out of
poetry define
who am I
I cry
I also
rejoice and
stand still as
if suspended
all at the same
exact
time holding
that tiny particle
of truth inside me
that shining in spite
of me
.
.
,
,
,
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
.
.
.
.
