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a robin takes flight
enraptured by fields of snow twilight approaches here's Monday morning
footsteps on a wooden bridge children learn to live grow my strength
cleanse shadows tattooed across the weft of my existence before the end of the day if a breeze rises stronger or a shadow darker it is too much under the weight I was given I wish my heart to splinter I want to savour all fragrance again he came to us,
riding a night a mare, a messenger news was his sword slicing through tranquillity we sat and stared as the last flame licked the embers then change gushed in hope may travel in rusty caskets euphoria is the tip of an arrow peace is housed in beds of poison but love is always measured in cups ieri notte alzandomi
per vedere se dormivi guadando una scacchiera di possibilità ho calpestato per sbaglio un raggio di luna e un delicatissimo sorriso ti ha velato le labbra avrei voluto restare ma conosco luoghi dove sei più bella libera ed io più felice di vederti intera conosco amori in stanze senza specchi che ci lasciano sani ed imparo a camminare senza far rumore impossible voltage in my plasma
a therapy of light whispering farewells behind the café counter the invisible airport now closed due to excessive coldness in this war a spirit of endurance peeping through windows of difference, as the estate displays the different stages in life putting on their show there are people here who still worship St Elmo's fire how things don't matter
when I sit down to explain how things don't matter Second place, Editor's Choice, in the World Haiku Review March 2013 Included in Fuga No Makoto I played God for a while
but failed in my quest looking for another like me deep inside grand machines in the palm of my hand magic mirrors of knowledge promising perfection assuring deliverance in every brushstroke across my neurons now colours fade travel into one another as God falls short of His will and under the cloudburst cries the man it began with hope
to reach that time between two stars arms raised hands shown harm banished hungry dawns tossed so far over the sacred hills the past was changed to change the landscape I carry rubble, rough concrete in a pocket a pebble, smooth as a scar in my brain shiny as a gleaming pot so poisoned no one can eat from it so clean to touch to sniff and see a handful of stones is my empire a mouthful of souls is my tribe we're safe they say but our hearts never did get out of that house in time... |
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