There are 3 different types of moments in life:
those when you look back, and write;
those when you look ahead, and write;
and those in which you live.
This is a moment of life.
Category: Mix
Gushes
It happens that I have a ‘gush’ of happiness.
It often has to do with water.
When I enter the warm pool to swim
or in a hot tub during winter…
When my body gets accustomed to the water temperature of the sea,
or when warm water runs over my head in the shower.
But it also happens
when I put the first bite of a good chocolate cake in my mouth,
when my body gets warmed for the first time by the sun in spring,
or when I book a vacation with my closest friends.
But lately something weird is happening.
I cannot explain it.
I have sudden gushes of unmotivated happiness.
I turn around quickly as if to catch the thought that filled my heart, that made me smile,
and nothing, I see nothing, I remember nothing.
Nothing that could explain why I felt happy for a second.
And it’s gone.
I’m left torn, with a half good sensation and a half bad of having lost it,
and wondering…
Memo to self
No moulding
just helping, here, now.
No moulding.
Writing
If you could go back in time
you’d make the same mistakes again
you’d relive the nasty parts
as well as the good ones
Being older you’re aware
that you cannot know
what lies ahead
It has yet to be written
and you’ve learned to write
The elusive art of waiting
It’s an art
I’m trying to master,
but all I manage to do
is fill the space of time with ‘items’
so that my thoughts don’t linger,
excessively, on the awaited one.
The void itself is grey,
but not always,
it does depend
on the nature of the expectation.
It’s dark grey now,
that I am waiting
for relieving news.
It can be purple,
in other cases,
better cases.
To dance one dance
To dance one dance
Out of a dream
you came to me
to dance one dance.
It left me
unexpecting, my womb in flames, my breath short.
Gratitude and melancholy.
————————————
Un giro di danza
Della materia dei sogni
sei venuta a me
per un giro di danza.
Mi ha lasciata
senza pretese, col ventre in fiamme, il fiato corto.
Gratitudine e malinconia.
Raffica
La raffica rumorosa della pioggia
si trasforma in spolverata silenziosa di neve,
che prima bianca, si cristallizza sul vetro, sciogliendosi.
Il nero del cielo è reso raro dal freddo.
Snow
The white snowy fields,
broken by the traces
of the countryside’s secret life,
bring a smile to my face
lined by dry tears
of a past long gone.
Intonso
Intonso è il pacco delle fotografie
sigillato con il suo contenuto
è nascosto in un angolo.
Non ho avuto il coraggio di affrontarlo
da quando te ne sei andata
non l’ho neanche cercato,
il coraggio.
12 Marzo 1990
Chiuse il portone e si trovò in strada.
I suoi passi si fecero sempre più veloci.
Si era finalmente liberata di lui.
Non c’erano state le urla che lei aveva temuto,
lui era rimasto in silenzio a guardarla
mentre lei spiegava le sue motivazioni.
Era libera.
Prima di tutto però,
doveva sbarazzarsi di quella pistola.
Edge Stretching 