I don’t know it I don’t know it yet
not in vertical,my daily position
anyway I’m singing the continuous escapes
the candid bones,my sleepy touch
actually I don’t know my obsessions
they are sincere they are made of glass
so I’m looking for the survivors
one hundred miles after the strangers
you see – I have a touchdown existence
and the houses are welcoming
half-closed they watch some late conversations
the clearest one embraces a dirty white
one by one they will be one thousand
broken time,sold out index
slowly slowly without a warning
they are sun-drenched beaches or just the last land
everything is coming
do not tell me do not tell me
one by one they will be one thousand
uno per uno saranno mille
il tempo spezzato,il repertorio esaurito
piano piano senza avviso
è l’azimut è l’ultima spiaggia
tutto quanto viene
non dirmi non dirmi
uno per uno saranno mille
each one of us is a swing
like an hunged ball
like a windy flag
like the untold above
holy misery holy sadness
borrow me ashes and dust
dropping from the ceiling is the past
harvest.burning.reflections.squirting or not.
amazed persons.
there is a shape for dreams
there is a shape for fear and desire
for hunger to be loved
so these days are an evolution for everyone,
true love and crazy cats
#1
the state I’m in
today as I see
it’s a grateful one
I will bring the party
I will
the reason why
for the desert
changing colours
isn’t death
the reason why
the skylines disappear
they are disappearing
long my feet lines
here the clock says
no more sleeping hours
just floating through
my dusty love
his sudden picture
and the milk
and the children
alike
so you dreamt me,last night
you dreamt the shore we stood on
the little distance recalled back
skin sliding no word no shape changing
it was marvellous wasn’t it
it was my fault yes it is
so close so close so wet and then
sliding in another place together
we got into a tangle
steam and stone
so last night you dreamt me
yes it was,you say
you just woke up confused
sadly no me close to you
on sunday morning warm pillow
that’s why your misty clear voice
suddenly phoned me all the story
carring on it coming round it
breathless mad simple bite
we are not able to die of hunger
because it’s about
a romance and telegraph poles
the water its mass and the blanks between
two black lines unpside-down my eyes
both the lips of mine circled by gloss
so perfect for you to kiss them
Dear History,
For too long have I pondered your meaning, memorized dates of battles, years of servitude, decades of injustice, named eras after movements, mourned the extinction of species, cursed founding fathers, worn vintage suits and cloaked myself with references of your hold on me.
I have walked through museums wondering how it is that greatness had lived and died all before my time. Parts of me feared becoming great because it seemed to include a price of death and a postmortem glory that my memory could never resurrect. I’ve stared at paintings dying to catch glimpses of the painter, closed my eyes to listen to songs that drunken ghosts dance to, and all the while I’ve fought to FREE the present to BECOME.
In 1995, I stood with poets in the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge, barking metaphors at the new moon of the summer solstice wedging words into it’s craters, sewing seeds through nightly wind.
In 1996, I forced the ocean back with words, fathered planets, climbed pyramids, and began to decipher the sirens song to conjure the dream-filled Children of the Night.
In 1997, I stood with prisoners in our nations capitol bending bars with the power of thought as wordsmiths served sentences and Hip Hop diddy-dandified itself: stealing golden calves from the Old Testament to smuggle into the lavish crib of Pontius Pilate for it’s birthday party
In 1998, I swallowed fear and sun-danced on film reels, projecting a me that had not been into a me that ever shall be.
And HERE I stand, ten years the difference and witness to changing hands.
Dear History,
I beat you. I stand a generator of generations bearing witness to a world that we are holding accountable for past actions. Me and my friends, we’re changing our diets, re-inventing marriage, check-mating capitalism, re-defining ethics, replacing cruelty with compassion, and have sworn not to re-elect the sins of the father.
We are casting our votes for so much more than a lesser of evils, but for change, and greater insight, for wisdom out of the mouths of babes, for races that bleed into ONE.
Dear History,
You are behind us and we are no longer looking back. We are standing on the threshold of new times, new days, new worlds, and charging forward without battle cry or trumpet, while cynicism, apathy, and cowardice take their place beside you, behind us.
Dear History,
We no longer believe in you. We have invested our our thoughts and dreams into the present moment and opportunity to shift our reality into one that does not resemble your dog-eared books.
We stand on the shoulders of those who have dared to dream and on the necks of those who have wasted their time and ours proclaiming a past past its prime.
Dear History,
Blitz! It’s my turn now. You can have your mounds of flesh, leather boots, cannons and sabers, nooses and guillotines, warships and fighter planes, trails of tears and blood, genocides, dungeons and dragons, ghost stories and fairy tales……….
