On a torrid May afternoon, when the thermometer reached 30C and a million of tourists hid in the shade of centuries-old terraces along the Venice embankments, a troupe of poets bypassed…
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This time, it was an inventive “letter” to reparative aspects of our research. An exploration into the embryology of the artistic process, pain, memory, and time. A still life that…
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*** You are my hometown of forgetfulness, of healing, Made for ЛЮБОВЬ , I woke to find you swathed in la nebbia, ТЫ НЕБО ! The sense of gravity pops…
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The start of this Friday was even better than a usual Friday. A few infinitely beautiful hours in the centuries-old Carmelite monastery in the heart of Ghent. A retreat organised…
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*** Woken up by the white the white, By impatience of heart to melt, The sky was empty this night, Without the stars has been left. The sky didn’t sleep…
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*** It was an attic room, Too small For my unableness To keep emotion in control. It was under the attic dome, Where we felt the joys Of shared insomnia.…
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Sara Maino and I are going to perform a two-poet show at the XVII edition of the International Poetry Festival, "Palabra en el Mundo", held in Venice on the 26th…
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The poem “From Iberia to Siberia” accompanied by Sara Maino’s painting “Il Tempo e un clic. Van Gogha” is published in MAINTENANT 16: A Journal of Contemporary Dada Writing and Art,…
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*** Can you stop the rose from withering, Sun from setting, Hands from getting unpassionate? All that remains is memories And the tyranny of ‘what-ifs’ - God, bless them! On…
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The book ‘Symphonism as a strategy of translating a lyric poem into drawings’ is on its three days' journey to meet new people and have conversations that their author could…
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