
*** 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….
*** 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….
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,…
*** 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…
*** Cautious is the sound, The sound of the still mountains. As if the icebergs rooted to the lake, They moan to the skies for centuries. But nothing exotic about…
*** The taste of persimmon, which is not heard, Which is not seen, but reimagined by the tongue – The spicy soul swirls, pushing autumnal spleen away From the beholder’s…
*** Electric light illuminates The honey skin of leaves, In slight attacks of fever The shadow of the moon Stands still In Scorpio. Two fine eyes – the craters Are…
*** From the Portrait Hall of memory- I reach the Amber Room – Venezia – Beige and automnal In October Of twenty twenty two. The FON-DA-MEN-TA FE-DO-ROvskiy Or the Winter…
*** Our journey around the world And towards each other Is a non-stop sentence, Spontaneous and indifferent to punctuation, Lots of love, lots of layers, Your everyday gestures are always…
*** I was a wandering camel Braying at the sun, I felt I was walking On hot coals, I kept my pain and sadness Secret (Anyway, there was no-one around!)…
*** Feelings that I want to be honest about, Feelings that you can get tangled up, Feelings that become real Once they have been pronounced, Feelings that lie so helplessly…