The strong hour

the firmament

- are you smiling already?

shows a primordial pattern

 

just see,

- I tend to believe what you say

the stars in the strong hour

 

observation is an exercise

for steady hearts, eyes

need more solid bodies

 

over this tiny valley

(I’m reading in your diary)

the moon is slipping unnoticed,

only roots-equipped beings know

what is going on

and where

 

flames and ice

the transit of a celestial body

fuel

 

from this perspective

it isn’t worth the trouble

- a domestic injury, at most

 

So, let’s take this chain of events

(contemplation is a pastime for respectable mademoiselle)

some parsimony is preferable, I guess

 

metamorphosis is what I’m most afraid of:

memories lend themselves to misinterpretations

easy targets – they become

easy targets

- for moths

 

Interior - Varano de Melegari Castle, Parma - Italy

Interior – Varano de Melegari Castle, Parma – Italy

# 5

Brunch chez Burlot

“International Exposition”

 

along the way

the glass temple welcomes

pictures, stories

 

light and shadow

join together

on a concrete wall

 

four square meters

a single room

to get rid of the blues

 

the air smells good, outside

(getting rid of the blues

is for wishful thinkers)

 

a fistful of steam

comes out of your pocket,

do you hide the remnants of fantasy, yet?

 

a stained petal

breaks the frail harmony

of your flower dress

 

the weight of the words

now falls on your lips,

- try again…

 

the weight of the words

now rests in your throat

- saying goodbye in a whisper…

 

the petal disappeared along with its stain,

there is nothing special

in those who stay

 

still on the platform

(sacred image in the circle of the sun)

watching the tail of the train

 

the empty rails.

Elliott Erwitt exhibition of photography - Arrangement

Elliott Erwitt exhibition of photography – Arrangement

#4

Tie them strong

scraps of fabric

carefully sewn to the sky

(look twice, those aren’t clouds)

 

a secure knot,

some thread, the needle

a couple of painful stitches

 

in the tragedy of the names,

a map to cross the desert

of the memory

 

bent, still at work

the hand moves up and down,

commanding the tide

 

a whisper on the lips,

the thread trembles a while

then flutters away – not that far away

 

scraps of fabric, fragments of life,

tie them strong ‘cause time will try to rip them off

(like the rudest passer-by)

Giudecca Island, Venice - Italy

Giudecca Island, Venice – Italy

#3

Shadowless

sprout opens

the gathering night

 

the mysterious source uncovered

(inside: pure memory)

waiting, still

 

dark figures murmuring

about the weak nature of things,

- listening

 

travelling light is important

(only a shade of melancholy)

they say

 

shadowless fingers don’t intertwine,

hardly stay on the right side

the stars

 

if they’re just masks with empty eyes

(pointing the finger)

who can explain for all that sky

the reason?

Giudecca Island, Venice - Italy

Giudecca Island, Venice – Italy

# 2