4.
at times when I plant
basil such a delicate plant
I’ve to be careful to synchronize
my breath while I gently press
the dirt around as when
words sprout on paper
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
.
5.
on mornings I walk
into the sun rising with each step
I type in words – they crowd around me
at dawn very few people are
around silence is bubbling
.
.
..
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
.
.
.
.
7.
some people sit and read
the program but do not pay
attention to the music or the tempo
they do not single out instruments
they need punctuation in poetry
prose in the shape of a column
.
.
.
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.
.
11.
there’s a pace you need
to let your soul reach where
there will be no more war inside
of you nor anger where you bow
kindly and poetry welcomes you
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
.
.
.
*
non mi sono mai
seduta in riva al fiume
a meditare la vita
scorreva veloce dentro
e la domenica fu
meraviglia dopo meraviglia
una festa a sorpresa
.
.
.
.
*
a petal can lead
to an expanse of flowers
of poetry and lightness
surprisingly colored
to an internal suburban world
projecting me with telescopic
vision toward the earth I who
believes to be above it
within not yet under
I who believe and know no more
I who believes evermore that
I’m and nothing else matters
who loves to live an atom
at a time my own explosion
.
.
.
This poem appears in the first volume of the California Notebooks.
.
*
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
,
*
the life of a poet
is that of cultivating
yourself so that poetry
may choose to visit you
.
.
.
This poem is part of the new volume “California Notebooks 03” soon to be published.
.
*
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
.
