not foul
nothing lays once I rattle open the key to look beyond
only unexpected smooth surface open eyes at 3 am and a cats body to sleep upon
for 7 minutes I snore and he purrs
there are no breaks in the earth here in my world
but we need some big ones to shake them all up maybe falling off a tree….
the blaze of sun is shifted into September and like a half smile
awaits a trigger
so that my hand feels half empty and I hate gifts that burn them
sleepy soul cannot make anyone else but me move in this tilt
your words
are thrown like dirty socks
suspiciously smelling and wicked
waiting to be removed from earth while you spit like a dragon
or a snake?
your soul trembles under your power
lamenting its indifference
word fumble up and down like child a child have left some smile?
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
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
down Pratt Road and past the schools we go again
and it is the same same stuff that rings
calls me into another life
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….
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 says EDWARD-EDWARD-EDWARD and he doesn’t wake up while I am 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?
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…
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
broken breaking life like puddles that
built skyscrapers
some
small
one
left
over
shake shook shocked there are none left
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 have just translated this poem by Erri De Luca….thanks to Andrea Formiconi’s response to a thread in CCK08!
I See Value
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.
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.
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