2024 Unpublished Poetry

There were grey wharves made of rotten logs, From where we, children, dove into the lake, There were the drowned pontoons on which we danced, gazing into the ochre waters.…

Poetry  *** To describe how you believe is difficult: When I hear church bells on Sunday morning in Italy, I want to stand up, Look at the wrinkles, landscapes, mimics…

*** A still sky after hours of storm: You see the trees standing silent As there is no wind anymore. Slowly, as if invisible Van Gogh, Rublev, or Shostakovich, Crusading…

*** Painting icons in the postmodern kitchen, Under the scrutiny of stoves and vegetables, At the cooking crossroad of air and fire, water and earth, A pilgrimage through the memory…

*** I can’t remember a more arctic spring, I conclude work and sit alone in the tower, With blinds up, with eyes down, Trying to attract summer. This is one…

*** Where does she begin and end? She descends from above the clouds, Seeps from the hidden glacier, Born near the sky’s surface, In the snow-capped triangle - My eye…

*** Titled ‘Branches’. It makes you look and look some more. A jungle of signs, A line path of cranes over the sky sucks my eye, In the twists of the trees, in the stormy…