in a quiet mirage of may shadowy pauses in your long turn to speak long pauses in life still to live but struck by a faint wave’s foreboding reflection, the eye gave you interrupted words—
to the dead, to those who will go in time, to loves lost almost in the play of other illusions…
but lakebottom the confined molting of mud from sky sun’s pearl mirror betrays the azure and seems a crystal in the scattered flame of one-thousand lit up colors
i might have wanted to resolve your pain that would now come back as visible mark of long-ago pledge that you did not keep but if names and voices of whoever left us seem in hindsight superior it is because of a cruel tenderness that believes in the lake’s reflected light that never brings to mind the slime that stagnates there
elsewhere
love’s fluctuations almost last after the shipwreck that revealed your illusions
my breakable assumptions. vertigo now that we near subasio’s rooftop
you hardly recognize life in progress scattered through mown down fields of thought,
where fear’s flame is pinched out fear that made us watch for the next day
as long as you only have listless words i should take up the habit of climbing above abuses if at that time i trusted your convictions
and you will not have words for keeping watch when i will be here all alone to remember
summer’s promise
grown in open grainfield, a final exploit, flower full of disbelief spared from being weeded out by your protection
words not my own open dawn’s balconies echo whisperingly with fragile light that does not reopen flowers in the morning
mallow spreads its silenced corolla out and you are not you. respite awaits the sun greets day and its excesses traces of goldplated reflections stand out
the red flower has become dull life’s meager reverberation at dusk and persistent riffling of wheatears
june, which does not satisfy, harvests wheat is promise of bread’s aroma this much is enough
a desire’s bite
from windowpanes scored with rainfall in december drained of color
or from a summons still alive along streets paved with memories
i was searching for you in fall but found you in winter
now that a failing horsebit brakes me now that i could wipe away streaks of rainfall
the intricate stitches of moon which seizes tear into my heart moon that does not surrender the net to past love
we remained uneasy in the silence because you will not migrate from dream
and i will not be the one to transport you the never attained treasury of words maybe will not shut its doors to disgrace that barely belongs to you
rooftops
the night possesses endless corners narrow paths where dream returns to life
amber rooftiles welcome owl the cat in heat, the great tit,
day’s wretched residue is unquiet the good you wish me, so essential
so difficult for you to be able to rectify able to comfort when i am wrong
if the cat began to mourn if souls of night keep watch
new space remaining to explore i will pretend i am a rooftop acrobat
World Poetry Review 