he’s feeding on my sadness
take a deep breath he says
// and I don’t like names//
take a deep breath he says
bianca
before we dive into this
new skin
covering our wings
// but I promised this would not be a poem
about angels
wings
sky and not even clouds//
we’ll use straws and make bubbles
until we’ll be ready for surface
find our way
eyes
say hello // hello// as the air crushes
I woke up chewing the pillow
lips and teeth running like some lame dogs through
archives of freedom
I stripped from myself the mantle of befuddled leaves
and clothed me in studs of mountains
my half conscience was in love with nefarious worlds
thirsty of miocen odysseys
and now
like an emperor whitout clothing
looking thru the stiff neck of an empty
chivas regal bottle
E' inutile scrivere se non si sente il rumore del vento.
(ogni lettera è un suono, ogni parola è un tono musicale che vibra)
Le parole si possono perdere col tempo,
sotto le foglie secche...
dimenticate.
---
Non si può pitturare senza la luce.
I colori devono essere vivi, intensi
(ogni colore è una goccia di vita che illumina...)
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