utopia dreamt

switched open dusk

an open hand offering small shiney things looks like sweet

you pick up the dusk                                   closes and sighs in the hemisphere

watery stuff and has no substance                                        like swimming

rattles in your voice where no              words                   articulate                 no

language is in your mind     animal   almost   dreamt

there is no reason to fret

after all things are calm and you can tell me your secrets but it is

inside the mouth of your dream that

Nebula of truth

Life has a body

my life has a body which lives and breathes

outside of mine

behind its skin lives another nebula

so I look into my life’s eye

to find out

and we converse dark and morning merges

to unfinsished lives

home

down Pratt Road and past the schools we go again

and it is the same same stuff that rings

calls me into another life

FILTRATO E STAGIONATO

Chicago in January

bleak big city

bl bl bl bli

blessed memory of childhood running running through me in a rushed ru rush

down crooked path and you picked me up on the way as

I twisted my glance behind my shoulder to say farewell to

my father in this cold city

slow as molasses in January, Dad….

Dad zipped

here it is: final no negotiations

from sleep to neverland where life begins and ends and no poet can write words that justify it.

tomorrow cold why when I telephone 561 4770089 talked to mom and dad is sleeping he’s fair and then the nurse said EDWARD-EDWARD-EDWARD and he didn’t wake up while I was listening on the phone He is still breathing isn’t he???  Yes…hold on…I’ll call you back.  I knew I know he is not miraculously coming back but maybe …and zipped Dad

so why did that nurse know?

halves

half crazy half threatened half laundry done shopping

half on the table meat.eggs.on.the.kitchen.table half finish

half anger running half clean

half crumbs half loved half shared halved always had

half and unhalf wept

and unwept soaked and dry at the same time and unknown

unknowing and never finished

small lives half lived leaving half done chores on kitchen

tables half the crumbs to sweeo half emotions unspent and half

pounds of meat left to cook

what matters least

tragedy leaves small lives in gutters and senceless the noise

is in

the background

no more doors to open

now…

night

long and dark hours of night the clock

remind me to wake up at 7.30

feared hours alone feeling my heart beat

gather the hours like thick soup to cradle

space cuts the night into pieces that vibrate in my head that vibrate

I am alone and nothing can take me:: the night belongs to me

I listen to you breath in your sleep

my lonliness engulfs and I shiver

the darkness wraps me in warmth

died in the car said his mother

broken breaking life like puddles that

built skyscrapers

some

small

one

left

over

shake shook shocked there are none left

Death Valley and Manuela

a pattern in her steps … reveals her voice

Manuela arrives elated and then crushed

I am sweeping the floor when he says that he has to drive his amica to the city and “che te frega about the stairs it’s not your turn we’ll do it” as he looks up my thighs

the woman he brings into his home is blonde and carrying a bag of potatoes and after 10 – 15 minutes they leave the empty apartment together.

I should not hear beyond the surface

but the vibrations are getting to me

and he comes and mostly goes while Manuela seems to be in mourning wearing sunglasses when it is not  sunny at all

Besides she stays at home abandoning her students calling her mother to come.

“I can’t stand being alone” she says, evidently it is this horrible place we live in called Death Valley where there is nothing but contadino around.

I can smile and laugh but I won’t touch her ferite unless she shows them to me.

I See Value

I have just translated this poem by Erri De Luca….thanks to Andrea Formiconi’s response to a thread in CCK08!

I See Value

by Erri De Luca

In every form of life I see value,

the snow,

a strawberry,

a fly,

I see value in the mineral kingdom,

the assembly of the stars,

I see value in wine as long as the meal lasts,

an inadvertant smile,

the weariness of he who has not been spared,

two old people who love each other,

I see value in what will not be worth anything tomorrow and today is still worth little,

I see value in all of the wounds

I see value in saving water,

repairing a pair of shoes,

to silence in time,

to rush to a scream,

to ask before sitting,

to be thankful without recalling for what,

I see value in the wanderer’s voyage,

the nun’s convent,

the prisoner’s patience, whoever’s the fault may be,

I see value in using the verb to love,

and the hypothesis that a creator exists.

I haven’t known many of these values.

CONSIDERO VALORE, Erri De Luca

Considero valore ogni forma di vita,

la neve,

la fragola,

la mosca.

Considero valore il regno minerale,

l’assemblea delle stelle.

Considero valore il vino finchè dura un pasto,

un sorriso involontario,

la stanchezza di chi non si è risparmiato,

due vecchi che si amano.

Considero valore quello che domani non varrà più niente e quello che oggi vale ancora poco.

Considero valore tutte le ferite.

Considero valore risparmiare acqua,

riparare un paio di scarpe,

tacere in tempo,

accorrere a un grido,

chiedere permesso prima di sedersi,

provare gratitudine senza ricordarsi di che.

Considero valore il viaggio di un vagabondo,

la clausura della monaca,

la pazienza del condannato, qualunque colpa sia.

Considero valore l’uso del verbo amare

e l’ipotesi che esista un creatore.

Molti di questi valori non ho conosciuto.

13 June

At last we walk into the path you’ve paved

within the great walls forever you gave.

Listen now the captain of my ship has tipped his hat!

and all the children are asleep around the cats!

Behold! shall we abandon all our old mores

in order to join the crew of the badly behaved?

Alas we shall release the right and wrong

To be or not to be will be our song.

alphabets

the future holds no language

there is no alphabet

words slide and shuffle in ones mouth with no commom tense

there are strade nuove

to build

the circle will swell under flames

darkness is known to sleep…

Julia

Julia pearl girl

parfum Française pour moi

little girls package portato dal estero precious and hidden in a corner of my drawer

never

never

land

perfume

opposite of abstract

some

spaces where

old/skins are shed …a night that opens its doors to fantasy and

small words are symbols

that dance

down the paths past the gate

my breath so uncluttered to

touch the words stringing them like lanterns through the galaxy

asking again if through

some space cracks light nonostante pattern, rythm

clustered in the poet’s shell.