Poetry

*** Hemingway would not refuse From coffee in the sun, The patio and you, You - in a chessboard shirt, Smiling at him (All though, you did to me!), While…

*** If those poetrees could speak, What would they say to you and me? That time is sweet? That time is fast? That time is something to forget To feel…

*** Un tempo sull'acqua con barca, The cloak of fog in the sunshower, Lake Garda, Petrarca, Arco, Le mani di piano - staccato - In charcoal they draw my profile,…

*** At the cathedral of sun rays, In the arabesque of forgetfulness, Solemn and silent, I saw no-one, caught nothing, But felt embraced, Sitting inside the flames On Sint Andre’s…

*** I wonder How many poems it would take me to read to you before you fall asleep? With a scarf in my hands I enter this spring, pretending I…

*** Imagine an island. An island you can only imagine. Its walls were thin, Strengthened with rocks They’d bring from the sea. Rocks and bits of shell and coral and…

*** The key word in the sonata Is the final estàtico. The day’s summit comes After ‘good morning’ puzzles - Crescent-shaped hopes Looking like croissants, Afternoon doubts piled as ‘drafts’,…

*** Well, it all began with fragments of a dressing gown you wore, I never saw you in a bathing robe, But in a bathing robe you were, Shining on…

*** Un samedi après-midi, Some sit, some sleep, Some are in full bloom, Others droop and wilt, The joy and triste Don’t sunder, They co-exist This perfect afternoon Of unresolved…