Abcisses and ordenades!

2009-01-09T06:36:00.000-08:00

All things, persons and spirits flow in the afternoon.

A sunshine’ray burns plash’s water.
Espace dilates time!

It dissolves, liquifies abcisses
and ordenades!

Silence

2008-12-24T15:22:00.000-08:00

Everything is silence!

One leave falls.

Time rusts....

Apollo

2008-12-24T14:52:00.001-08:00

With your carriage of fire,

Apollo collectors

the last yellow hairs of the Sun!

Four leaves fallen...

2008-12-24T14:50:00.000-08:00

Four leaves fallen near my feet.

In the first leaf,

an angel

(smaller than my minimum finger)

with a broken trumpet

announced me pain.

In the second, an angel

with a dirty and rot tunic

frightens me agony.

In the third, an angel,

empty eyes,

talks and talks

about an endless doubt.

In the last leaf, a divine angel

gave me only a shy smile

and a promised

of fleeting happiness

every other time.

The sunshine ends in the dark park.

And the leaves disappear into the cold darkness.

My foot wants....

2008-12-24T14:49:00.000-08:00

My foot wants always another step

and stay up,

yet my legs,

like heavy stone,

prefeer only to stay in.

My neurons ask for a peacefull

and protected time

but my brain doens't never-ending

stop to work.

My heart wants an unexpectabe child

but some place inside me

told that I don't finish to grow up.

My dreams dream adventures in remote places

meanwhile my mind cries out

in the end of the day.

I wish to kiss your bright skin,

your red mouth

and put your exaust foot

under care of of my hands.

Tangents

2008-12-24T14:47:00.000-08:00

Between the contingent

and the transcendent,

I try to trace a line,

perhaps a simple tangent!

If...

2008-08-14T13:58:00.000-07:00

... If I was lost in the sands of anyone’s hidden desert,
and the Genius of the Lamp had given me only a sole desire,
I not ask for the obvious discovery
for the cure of all diseases, damnations and afflictions
or for the comfortable happiness for the remaining of my days.
Or - responsibility that exceeds my shoulders -, the happiness and fortune of all my fellow creatures for the rest of their lives.

I ask - yes - for the possibility to reincarnate
eternally and successively in each person
that composes mankind and the spirals of its history.

I crossed, like Marco Polo,
the boundaries between old Europe and the unknown East.

Like Cleopatra, I had, at my feet, at the borders of the Nile River, exhausted lovers and submissive slaves.

Terrified, I was swallowed by the torrent and flames of Pompeii’s fire. I read - or better - I wrote, in impenetrable languages papyrus and books of the lost Alexandria’s library.

I joined the squadron and, like Colombo, traced a new route and discovered the New Land, America.

I created the ingenious inventions of Leonardo da Vinci and smiled, with an enigma on my lips, like Mona Lisa.

Like The Bog Man, I was laid, for centuries,
in the darkness of water of some lost swamp
after the last battle against my enemies.

Like Gengis Khan I conquered lands,
I decided the destiny and fortune of thousands
and beheaded many others by a simple sign of my sword

or of that of any of my brave warriors.

Like Van Gogh I was painting, with an indescribable yellow, "The Sunflowers" and, after, unrestrained cut off my ear.

Sometimes man, sometimes woman,
I crossed every carnal pleasure passing through the sad hotel rooms of the nihilist dissoluteness of Henry Miller and Anais Nin. I was in ecstasy with the fullness
of the mystic communion with God of Saint Francis of Assis.

Tanctric or ascetic - it is not important whether - like an older yogamaster, I sank inside a cosmic meditation to transcend the ice and stone of the Himalayan Mountains crest.

Like Nijinski, I jumped incomprehensible leaps
on the stages of an astonished Europe.

I was a black man beaten to death by members of Ku Ku Klux Klan and was launched in the Mississipi River. And, years later, I shouted - to thousands of people, in front of The Capitol, “I have a dream!”.

I was inside of Lee Oswald's mind to learn whether he had shot the gun in Dallas and, if he had, whether he had accomplices or not.

Almost deaf, I composed the Nine Symphonies of Beethoven.
Bitter. Like each of the Fab Four, I composed the front line
of the revolution of music, hair and culture of the sixties.

With glamour, I walked the runway like Gisele Bundchen - maximum aim of all spots - and I bent like Marylin Monroe and dived in her last night with barbiturics.

I felt the desolation of the countrywoman from Bosnia with her decimated family.

I was one of the passengers – desperate – on the last night of the Titanic heading to the depth of the North Atlantic Ocean.

I was one of the passengers - desperate - in the crash against the Twin Towers in New York City.

I was unveiled the structure of the far away universe and the minute atom, and, like Albert Einstein, I wrote the theory of relativity.

Like Neil Armstrong, I was feeling the dust of the Moon with the first footprint of a human being or like Yuri Gagarin, I exclaimed "The Earth is blue".

So I roamed, tireless, all meanders - Heaven, Hell and Purgatory - of every one that let their - simple or outstanding -traces of their footprints on the face of the third planet
around the lost yellow star near the borders of the Milk Way.