UNENDING SONG N. 1

water of the world
sizzling river bound for
smooth silence

music overheard overhead
despite our forgetfulness
and the forces of habit

never calls for a halt
aims at the blank of no ear
gushing from all our sushes and voices

fountain even barren
in the void
springing

UNENDING SONG N. 2

this throat
of cracked cane
won't convey afloat again
a flute's solo mute

this tongue
of inner drill, instead of speaking
only slowly keeps on pricking
a escape-proof pit

this mouth
of forgetful wings,
plunges in the dungeons of the wind
an echo which I can't retrieve

this speech
brewed out in bellows of clay
falls short of breathing
before having its say

NOTES BY A SHUT-UP

through my pores I outpour
a cement of my own,
outside a wall wells up
made of sound silence,
whilst inside the universe
fades into forgetfulness

to watch death from an outer stance
or time in an out-of-time glance
equates with sensing the aching body
apart from feeling the pain
which makes it the body I am

drop by drop the thread wears off
towards the exit from the inner water-spring
whose drinking brings
an increasing deadening
of our most treasured recalls,
and oblivion is someone talking
behind a double-glazed window

I don’t lose myself where I can’t be found,
I simply stay where I run out,
I’m unable not to want and won’t,
nails and hair may pull on and on,
as to the remains, they also still thrive
despite of me, what is left to be said:
all matter aspires simply to rest

ANTI-BIOGRAPHY

I can’t remember what I have just said
no problem
in all I speak nothing can grasp me

I don’t think there is someone else aside from me
nor do I feel inside me
someone of a kind who feels and thinks

I don’t halt where I am stopped
everything passes by I don’t keep in sight
please don’t count on my waiting

I go round around
what can’t be found
I can’t just stay or try my way

a shadow’s dream
or the dream’s shadow
other’s shadow dreams of me

I walk along the borders of bewilderment
I don’t remember where I mislaid my name
and unlearned each and every fear

ON TIME AND SPACE

1.

Funny the way time
seems to have a good time
going stuck.
Most often
when you were having most fun
doing nothing.

There should be no time spun
when there is not a thing to be done.
And stacks of spared time
in case you need them
precisely when
you were only looking.





2.

So gross the way space
seems to inflate
whenever you have a haste.
Or the style how distances
tend to stretch apart
if you are tired or just too far.

I don't go fussy about the impracticality
of building a time machine
(we travel in time just all the time:
see, these lines scratched on my skin
tell you exactly where I have been).
What we really need are manners to speeding.

ZDEUS, GIUPPITER IN GRECO

Anche se io fosse mai stato
Un fannullone ancora più sfacciato,
Non mi sarebbe mai capitato
Di aver concepito un simile reato:
Zdeus, Giuppiter in greco,
Era il nome del mostro di cui parlo,
E l’aveva da poco messo a punto
Un conosciuto a metà pazzo a metà lucido,
Che, al tornare a casa, visitavo
In un pomeriggio grigio nel grigio
Permanente di San Paolo.
Mi spiego - si trattava di un programma da computer
destinato a essere di utillizzo per chiunque
capitasse di volere comporre versi.
E attesto che, con un premere di bottone,
Ne sprizzava, ed in mucchi in effetti,
Come l’orgoglioso inventore
Ha insistito in quella stessa occasione
Con vera virtuose in fare dimostrazione:
Dammi un titolo, lui mi aveva detto,
E in due o tre minuti, oppure meno,
L’artefice poetaccio ne avrà tutto un testo
Con un unico tasto di ditto prodotto.
Di pure, pensi adesso ad un argomento!
Ed io in sfida ho sfortunatamente proposto:
Come ti pare ZDEUS, GIUPPITER IN GRECO?.
Ed ecco quassù verbatim riprodotti
I versi che ho visto con i propri occhi,
Ve lo giuro, in uno solo sputo,
Venire dal congegno stupido composti.

NON-SMOKING CAR

Hello, Stranger.
Do you perhaps smoke?
No? Oh, I was only hoping
you were also in for some danger.
Sure that I saw the sing and know
this is a non-smoking car,
then tobacco and similar
are totally disallowed.
But it is allowed to talk,
or don’t you talk to strangers?
I was only helplessly hoping
you were also in for dangers.

You hear some music.
Would it sound abusive
if I just sat to your drone?
Cause your headphones,
you know they hum,
one can’t help hearing them,
the same with the noise from the engine
or the announcer's voice saying some name.
Or if you prefer I sit here and also yodel,
would that for god’s sake get you upset?
I myself wouldn’t resent
if you patted on my elbow

to the beat of that song.
Let´s try this way: you twitter to me that track,
but in case you feel ashamed to do so,
you could just click your tongue
to the rhythm from the phones.
Or bring me from this train
and the broad choice of its bans
to hear you sing in some other place,
is it where you go?
I would not strongly oppose
to you inviting me home
by mistake or in the know.

Is this your life?
Is this our stopping-point
for this night?
Would you just bother
to introduce us both?
Did you study for your work
or is it just a sort of last resort,
a setback scheme?
Oh don’t tell me nothing is as simple as it seems.
Yes it is.
It’s just a question of picking the right question,
and being bold to hear whatever appears.

If I have a life of my own?
Oh, my! What you think me?
An automaton? A latex
full-size doll, fit for next sex?
Of course I am and am
what I may, you fill in the rest of the line.
What else, um, let me think how I put this,
I kind like kind guys,
this includes you, for sure,
and girls, I tried, you can bet,
but it is the differences that -offense,
make it different. Or less straining.

Did you per chance offer me something
to sip, but I went deaf and missed it?
Yes, I feel dry, parched and thirsty.
Most talking on my charge, no surprise.
Yes, I am over twenty, perhaps…
I’m not precisely
a lady, so you feel free to ask.
And some of my clothes too,
they’re in age for driving to school.
I’m broke, so the looks tries to look casual
or successfully pretend to. Cheers!
Is that your room?

You hadn’t anticipated me you were an expert.
Now I grew abashed. Your hands, Stranger,
they really got the knack.
I just made you a compliment,
you are supposed to grant
me your heartfelt thanks.
Oh, my pleasure! And I mean it verbatim.
You’re so shy, how can it be?
One can’t be like that these days,
not even if you were fifteen,
we are trained to put up an impregnable face,
right in the heyday of the age of vulnerability.

So you’re the satellite geek.
I were good with numbers and physics
right down in school, but it was never
definitely a calling. I’ve always known
I had to act, no choice was left me.
We lie all the time, shouldn’t be as difficult as it takes,
but when you know the art and have to lie your part,
then you come to understand it.
Truth becomes also commitment.
And to lie truthfully. Does that make sense?
Drop at the theater, I can fix you with a ticket,
once you swear you’re no amnesiac.

Is this the time to leave?
For I never know, is there a time to go?
There must probably be one,
even when you don’t feel like doing so.
I got this feeling that I’ll see you
or you see me, or most promisingly,
we will see us both.
And now let me kiss your cheek,
and wave goodbye.
Strangers were not supposed to meet.
Which way to the stairs?
Should I flip a switch?