Posts Tagged With: love

the wisdom of the ground

you are not worth yet the price of a mustard seed
you lived neither 7 years of drought nor 3 nights without a day
through the core of your eyes you let inside a hurry-scurry
of swarming cherry petals flocks of crowned swans sunrises with a purple mantle

and all the vain beauty of this world

the gray nun’s outfit is so straightly cut
and the vestment of the nightingale is so poor
so do listen my friend to the deaf-mute mother swaying her sleeping baby
listen to the wordless and powerful silence in the last communion

yet it is still too much

I saw once a woman in a funerary cortege, the other women cried aloud or wept along the way, only she lagged behind like a sluggish stone she hardly breathed when the road suddenly climbed and the funeral banner fell at the graveyard’s gate, she was still silent like the earth, some people said that she was a witch or evil because she did not speak, but she looked gently towards them with pure and sparkling eyes

I met once a man who loved his child and gave him a beautiful fairy tale to be read every night, after many years the child deserted him and did not come back, but the old man looked at the child’s picture with the same love in his eyes, when he died people said that he was a bad man because he kept silent and thus the rats ate him in his grave, but after a few more years his child became silent too looking at others like his father did once

you are not worth yet the price of a mustard seed and neither do I

Categories: My poems in 2016 | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Because of too Much Love

I am the prodigal son’s mother
I kept the baby swaddled too tightly until he was gone
in the world of temptations
to straighten his knees

I gave the wind my flesh to bite it forty years
in the desert with the rough sack dress over the empty belly
I washed the feet of sacred statues with oil from olive tree nipples
I gave to the rain the color of tears still yelling after my baby
from the mouth of a cavern open in the storm
I learned the barren law
of the damned souls’ forest

like a sunflower I raised myself at sunrise
going round until the night left me bent to the earth
with my heart black and heavy with my son
who didn’t return
because of my great love

Categories: My Poems in 2015, Uncategorized | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

Sleeping woman, red chalk drawing

I imagine two people making love they’re like gingerbread men they stick at the hinges chocolate chips melt they become like biscuits soaked in syrup or like dry bread chips melting in sacred wine

They get dizzy and slip down they take a bath with foaming bath salts to invigorate then they start all over again he hiding his muscular strength and steely veins she covering her thin ankles and her smooth skin still too white on her breasts

I met once in a while a man I saw him as if through a beekeeper’s mask there was a beehive of women around him he stood stuck to the ground his hands on his hips his back turned to me I had never watched until then a man’s butt but it was not my fault now we’re old and gray and far apart one from another

It was a scent of young fir bud and lemon tree flowers crushed in the palms of my hands it was a wish to lay stretched on the warm naked ground it might have been a rainy summer and maybe my limbs were too tender I could easily touch the back of my head with my heels I danced on the armchair I swore I would never smoke and I would keep my backbone flexible getting old I dreamed of having my navy blue wedding in a simple-cut dress

Only that year there grew poppies on the field beyond my fence it is uncertain from where came the seed they withered and blackened like poppies do but none got roots

Categories: My Poems in 2015 | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment


tell me what can be found before pain
an upside-down cross between heart liver and stomach
what lies downwards swells like biscuit in milk
and what lies above screams
like Saint Peter would have screamed
upturned cross at the foundation of the church

tell me what survives longer between the four cardinal points
made of living flesh and bluish blood
before pain it is peace and after pain silence
or maybe the opposite
before pain it is the word and after pain only the shadow
motionless unmovable powerless like a flag at half-mast
like sacred banners on the road to the graveyard

let it be yours bighearted man
the rice grain in which I sculpted
a white monastery

(4 august 2014)

Categories: My Poems in 2014 | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Sentimental scenario

at first the woman sits in the man’s hand when he’s resting
if he goes to work he leaves her in a dimple on the bed sheets
she yeasts like dough
she raises
and picks all flowers all apples all grains
he comes back and sees the disaster
he sees into her belly through the tips of his fingers
she sweeps and cleans afterwards
the patch of earth they sit upon together

the man and his woman
untie the comets’ tails with their hands united
they’re a supercontinent for a moment
if they break apart unnamed oceans and archipelagos emerge
under the front of his head the front of her head and so on

Categories: My Poems in 2014 | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Blog at