tutto il fuoco
del giorno
nascosto dal tramonto
converge i suoi raggi
sul mio volto
bruciandomi vivente
finché risveglio
di nuovo acceso
intanto, attorno
le ceneri delle ore
sparse nel sonno
mi avvertono
che il tempo
è un misto
di lume e legno
effimero
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
WHY DO YOUR EYES INSIST ON BEING ALL OVER ME?
Once, when your eyes were the centre of all craving in creation,
It was each glimpse you issued to convey your intention.
They were all around us, open to be groped on and then broken.
But how dared you leave us, if you knew my lack of tact
Could so easily deceive us… if your ways so mysterious
And my perception of them so devious?
By that time I set out playing out as an acrobat,
Dealing with your wealth of images with my poor craft:
To tell you the perfect truth, I never knew how to put them all inside
[ you.
At the very first, it seemed as being placed before an oracle,
Having as sole resort to sort out my lot guessing on anything you
[ were about,
Since we had spoiled all measure of connectedness, you having
[ devoured
My eyes and they having lost sight of your insight, so weaning off
Any source of light. Nevertheless, just like a man that goes blind
After staring for too long at his inside, eventually compensates
His hindrances in the most unconceivably instictive ways,
I ended up developing a set of unprecedented senses, as that of a bat,
To work out a whole new world devoid of all your misprints and lapses.
And yet, it was as though you kept on acting upon me at the distance
As a source of force or of will, which fortunately forced itself against
The porous sift of my skin and the poor scope of my skills,
Radioaddictively penetrating my treasure of unforetold in-load
Sensory gossip. I could by then even brag to have being made after
Your very vision, the focal point of all long ago god-forlorn creation.
But would just fear to see too much, fear to feel so carried away
By all the amounts of data you kept on display,
You would ultimately get allusion of my unpurported intrusion.
Because I swear as lovers always do that I never craved for jealousy,
Since no matter what you did couldn’t walk unperceived
Past me, and so I could simply not avoid it, which deprived me
Of whichever room of manoevre to misguide your heed,
And thus becoming, for the worse or the better,
Utterly subjected to whatever you decided do be.
And being so watched over, I realised custom would turn you
Altogether callous to my presence, dulling as a result
Any glow of hope to think a day you could only notice.
Then, finally, if I were God, I would have insisted on being resurrected
After your most dissimilar dissemblance, just so as to perceive
More easily what you oppose or confirm on me,
Although you might still mistake it by my humiliating and self-serving
Question-begging for your attention. For only by remaining apart
I ought to manage to make me fully receptive even to what you aren’t.
Mind that, instead of representing you like a token,
I only wished to reach out for that gesture through which
You delivered or failed any attempt at communication.
I struggled for the merely real behind the genuine.
I quenched for that kind of ingrained lie
That expands beyond the authentic
And turns the truthful at odds and distorted,
As a glass blown on a warped surface,
Unveiling only by means of its own failures.
And now, after so many geneses spawned and spoiled or unintended,
Now that we had better stand for lifetime bittersweetly separated,
Through lack of sight, insight and deep or shallow everlasting silence,
We can, as a pay-off, no longer resent any sort of misapprehension,
And experience of feeling even close and inadvertently familiar,
Maybe because, as mirrors of one of the other,
We can make for angle amends and keep in the clear,
Adjusting what otherwise might cancel as exactly opposite
Sets of nonsensical perceptions of eachother,
Probably the same way in case we had been first place
Confronted and effaced by a raw and unstained
Estranged standard of transcendence.
I imagine that is what occurs with a pack of wolves,
Attracted to the glow and warmth of the fire that pulls them nearer,
And behold it mesmerized, but never dare to hazard how to bear it
[ into this world.
It was each glimpse you issued to convey your intention.
They were all around us, open to be groped on and then broken.
But how dared you leave us, if you knew my lack of tact
Could so easily deceive us… if your ways so mysterious
And my perception of them so devious?
By that time I set out playing out as an acrobat,
Dealing with your wealth of images with my poor craft:
To tell you the perfect truth, I never knew how to put them all inside
[ you.
At the very first, it seemed as being placed before an oracle,
Having as sole resort to sort out my lot guessing on anything you
[ were about,
Since we had spoiled all measure of connectedness, you having
[ devoured
My eyes and they having lost sight of your insight, so weaning off
Any source of light. Nevertheless, just like a man that goes blind
After staring for too long at his inside, eventually compensates
His hindrances in the most unconceivably instictive ways,
I ended up developing a set of unprecedented senses, as that of a bat,
To work out a whole new world devoid of all your misprints and lapses.
And yet, it was as though you kept on acting upon me at the distance
As a source of force or of will, which fortunately forced itself against
The porous sift of my skin and the poor scope of my skills,
Radioaddictively penetrating my treasure of unforetold in-load
Sensory gossip. I could by then even brag to have being made after
Your very vision, the focal point of all long ago god-forlorn creation.
But would just fear to see too much, fear to feel so carried away
By all the amounts of data you kept on display,
You would ultimately get allusion of my unpurported intrusion.
Because I swear as lovers always do that I never craved for jealousy,
Since no matter what you did couldn’t walk unperceived
Past me, and so I could simply not avoid it, which deprived me
Of whichever room of manoevre to misguide your heed,
And thus becoming, for the worse or the better,
Utterly subjected to whatever you decided do be.
And being so watched over, I realised custom would turn you
Altogether callous to my presence, dulling as a result
Any glow of hope to think a day you could only notice.
Then, finally, if I were God, I would have insisted on being resurrected
After your most dissimilar dissemblance, just so as to perceive
More easily what you oppose or confirm on me,
Although you might still mistake it by my humiliating and self-serving
Question-begging for your attention. For only by remaining apart
I ought to manage to make me fully receptive even to what you aren’t.
Mind that, instead of representing you like a token,
I only wished to reach out for that gesture through which
You delivered or failed any attempt at communication.
I struggled for the merely real behind the genuine.
I quenched for that kind of ingrained lie
That expands beyond the authentic
And turns the truthful at odds and distorted,
As a glass blown on a warped surface,
Unveiling only by means of its own failures.
And now, after so many geneses spawned and spoiled or unintended,
Now that we had better stand for lifetime bittersweetly separated,
Through lack of sight, insight and deep or shallow everlasting silence,
We can, as a pay-off, no longer resent any sort of misapprehension,
And experience of feeling even close and inadvertently familiar,
Maybe because, as mirrors of one of the other,
We can make for angle amends and keep in the clear,
Adjusting what otherwise might cancel as exactly opposite
Sets of nonsensical perceptions of eachother,
Probably the same way in case we had been first place
Confronted and effaced by a raw and unstained
Estranged standard of transcendence.
I imagine that is what occurs with a pack of wolves,
Attracted to the glow and warmth of the fire that pulls them nearer,
And behold it mesmerized, but never dare to hazard how to bear it
[ into this world.
ON CONTEMPORARY POETRY III
can you see can you see
the verse through the blizzard
of scholarly wizardry?
come over and catch a glimpse,
it boasts to disintegrate
as fast as a neutron
- oh boy, it’s already gone
the verse through the blizzard
of scholarly wizardry?
come over and catch a glimpse,
it boasts to disintegrate
as fast as a neutron
- oh boy, it’s already gone
BEACHSTROLL
In the wink in which a gull
that once hovered way above,
glides downwards and dips in
half-tipsily on the shallow
curve of surface of the water,
the beachstroll all of a
sudden strikes you as being dull.
On a second thought, you realise
(don’t you see?), maybe all the shadow
you don't see was shed by
your very eyes.
that once hovered way above,
glides downwards and dips in
half-tipsily on the shallow
curve of surface of the water,
the beachstroll all of a
sudden strikes you as being dull.
On a second thought, you realise
(don’t you see?), maybe all the shadow
you don't see was shed by
your very eyes.
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