Sunday posts are dedicated to Italian Poetry
*
fermarsi qui
smettere il tempo i pensieri
le nuvole buie scelgo la bellezza
la novità e le voci lontane
indosso la gratitudine
se non mi strappano questa
posso vivere
ovunque
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Tuesday Poems will be in English as usual.
Sì, la domenica le poesie saranno in italiano!
Poesia tratta da “California Notebooks” in vendita da Feltrinelli.
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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
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After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
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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
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..
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
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This Sunday Post is both in Italian and in English
*
nuvola
senza che nessuno
cambi tutto
cambia
.
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*
cloud
without anybody
changing everything
changes
.
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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
.
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After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
Sunday posts are dedicated to Italian Poetry
*
ogni fiore ha la sua
ape che per un tempo lo abbraccia
e lo deruba eppure si dona
serenamente non un fiore
scappa via alcuni cadono
nel canale l’acqua
scorre lenta scorre alta
quella degli irrigatori
dipingono un arcobaleno
nell’aria per me che
ho una vita più breve della loro
.
.
Tuesday Poems will be in English as usual.
Sì, la domenica le poesie saranno in italiano!
Poesia tratta da “California Notebooks” in vendita da Feltrinelli.
.
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
.
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After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
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9.
I’ve tried to explain
how the whites around
the words are so important
to me those silences I caress
on paper breaths spaces
make the poem
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After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
10.
have you been to that quiet corner
in your house when you shut out
all the superficial chatter where
you are the spirit of poetry
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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
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After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
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12.
Cloud have covered the whole
day slowing down my rhythm
I walk as barefoot on carpet
placing words carefully
dozing off a bit hanging
poetic moments behind my eyes
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After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
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*
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
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This poem appears in the first volume of the California Notebooks.
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A tiny taste of the radio interview I did in Milan, Italy, two weeks ago. The first poems is in English.
Un piccolo assaggio video dell’intervista all’Onda di Radio Navigli di Milano del 21-6-18. La seconda poesia è in italiano.
Text below/Testi a fondo pagina
*
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
*
ho visto la pioggia
camminare sul mare
bussava senza sosta
incapace di scavare
buchi antichi
come nelle rocce
perchè era
accolta
era ben accolta
*
I didn’t dislike
school most days
yet I was anxious
each day to go home
to have lunch while
reading – to then take a small
break after the meal – under
the sun on the balcony
reading again underlining
my dreams to come
adding notes to my
future days
.
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*
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
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This poem is part of the collection California Notebooks 02
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