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After the last red signal went off
I was the only one left We never did find out what happened but LED light rained down like sunshine and I danced through the falling strands. I rest between sleepers content to exist I count the suitcases, each one a flightless bird in transit the feathers and colours of home I am the Railway Dog my life is tracks of others' dreams patchy and burnt is my coat eyes now moist, and always dim but breathing inside me is one moment's treasure: the night I chose love over fear Ho spento le stelle
cellule dell'anima mia nel liquido in fondo all'ultimo posacenere rimastoho steso un manto una rete, che spero procuri e trattenga il nutrimento che cerco termine e inizio di un anelito al sogno dove infine il mare bacia la roccia bruna e la sabbia impasta e forma il senso racchiuso tra le labbra graffiando ora, levigando poi la forma di ogni donna e ogni uomo. In ciascuno è compreso il continente dalla forma a cuore imperfetto. Pubblicato in Poetika Vol. V (1/2), Onirica Edizioni 2013 he moves in, she chatters
a woman's teeth can bring on desire she smiles, talks slower does not display her need he pecks, plucks and dips his eyes in hers she pierces her veil this bird helps himself to nourishment the flesh and pulp of being apparently only passive she stirs deeper within it's over now, no consequences the peak of perfect balance shines more in unlikely places but one kiss can fuel a train across this city for the rest of the night... strand by strand
I weave, I pray to the bus of time flashing by and you may miss it or it may hit you yet tonight was divine a moment later would have lost you 'cause the big city am I I count my small steps I pray to the Most High that my locks are enough, tough and long for Him to catch me when I fall the weft of my path
no longer lies here as though lifted by a sparrow a thread has been flown to a place higher, more complete divine cartography nourished now by strings of words a tapestry is formed I may not see yet it prepares for me the relief of cool grass when I stop to rest and breathe fragrance of heather his destination will remain
elusive until the sword is raised again one last and final time before the oath to never look back. Fulfilment may be bread and a herd of goats. saltellano sulle corde e in mezzo ai tasti
dopo aver strappato rovi e spine stappato gioia orgoglio e riso digitato indicando levigante sollievo queste dita preziose, dieci, tutte soprattutto carezzano il volto tuo anch'egli ha dato vita a questi segni e a molti che ancora non so incomplete, gravi, gonfie e dure le mani han compensato facendosi messaggere del cuore stasera fa tappa il mio pensiero silenzio, e imparo ancora che lui è più grande di me e per questo ogni padre è sacro the uniqueness of the kiss
of oil on canvas is perfect not through shades or choice of place but due to the thick coarsness of this one hand caress of imperfection secretion in lust uniqueness of real detail skimming smoothness life is hoping that a knot a spasm in the waves may break my speed or my neck... to say the meaning of the sea it's best to stand among the cables the fossils of the motherboard who misses it the most now black with tar, our feet may choose their direction |
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