*** The lure of being lost In the shadows of a forest - Wandering among magnolias As though in “The Last Supper” With standing dinner candles. Trees never lose their…
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*** Your heart is the lightning capital of the country In which your soul rests, Whenever you hear a thunder inside yourself, Your voice is ready to play. It might…
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*** I cannot tell The taste of childhood summers. Caressing the ripe fruit Straight on the tree, The intense sweetness Left on the tongue To be saved up for Novembers,…
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*** Two 5-year olds Seen from the back, Throwing sand fervidly Into the window glass. Two girls Choose sand grains to say Something I can’t comprehend. They wear yellow pareos,…
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*** Poetry begot the meeting, The meeting begot sound, Sound begot trust, Trust begot tandem, Tandem begot love. Love begot letters, Letters begot hope, Hope begot meaning, Meaning begot form.…
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Profound thanks to CGraphika and personally to Charly Awad who designed my chapbook ‘I Think About Your Hands’. Anyone who designs or publishes books keeps us alive! See the visuals
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The poetry film “I Think About Your Hands” landed safely on a new shore - #PoetryFilmLive (UK). My gratitude to the to the editors, Chaucer Cameron and Helen Dewbery, for…
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The poem “I imagine a grove of white birch trees” accompanied by Sara Maino’s painting "Ritorno a Velo" is published in #Maintenant15 by Three Rooms Press Publishers. Buy your copy…
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*** Wanting, finally, to see the stronger sun, What a bizarre thing a touch is, Of someone’s lips or of a brush! To loosen up you must perform a bunch…
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