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Tag Archives: notebook lost and found


Demetrio Stratos e Area, Luglio Agosto Settembre (nero)

PFM, E’ festa

Nucleus, Sun child

Patti Smith, Pumping my heart

Pearl jam, Save you

Jeff Buckey and Gary Lucas, Cruel

I end up then

in he early evenin’

blindly punchun’ at the blind

breathin’ heavy


an’ blowin’ up

where t’ go?

what is it axactly wrong?

who t’ picket?

who t’ fight?

behind that windows

will I at least

hear someone from the supper table

get up t’ ask

“did I hear  someone outside just now?”


an hour ago

it came t’ me in

a second’s flash

an’ was all so clear

it still is now

yes it is

it’s maybe hidin’

it must be hidin’

the shot has shook

me up.. for I’ve never

heard that sound before


Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments.Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

that looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth’s unknow,although his height be taken.

Love’s not Time’s fool,though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle’s compass come:

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ,nor no man ever loved.

caffé letterario. Milano.

Yes a birthday is a milestone

When you stop and look behind

Paper-scissor-stone indeed

Golden fields by precious time

Make sounds and sounds

Pleasant to me that

Neptune adopted me

With turquoise and wisteria

Water and zinc

Years so true

Dear so long

Skin so few

One birthday of mine

I hold a route with hands

I stood admiring as a child

Circles just circles

And chiklets

  Sites have changed

shocking galleries and caves

istant lucky road

                                this big ending city

                                short to walk around

                                till further notice

and nobody knows

what happened

            is going to happen again

do not ask            never,never,it’s too much

anyway things become           changing at last

whatever or not

the worst energies,the best energies

                      attend a birthday

 look at my skin

look at my bones

look at me too smart too young

the mirrors have no respect

and I transcribe sentences

       how much I can do it – who knows

time is time

climbing on the roof

lights – grass – grass – lights

flying carpet up and down

somewhere Bauhaus buildings

the promenade

                          a modern Spanish one

the local places

the busy groceries

the Arabic food

the Yemenite settlement

sand,stones,gardens          everyday activities

people from Sheinkin

                           brightly arm in arm and bracelets

expresso-bar and pub

                                renewed by two young figures at midnight you saw

shocking galleries and caves and so

Tel Aviv, i’m writing for you

usually I make a lot of movies

where you are in

when bottles and glasses

SHABBAT  dinner and LEHAIM they say

and your white nights oh LAILA LAVAN  oh LAILA

once more

taken pleasure on PURIM days,a common daytime

what’s the matter to carry on – who knows

and things to be done

and things we said

and things in pocket

and a pair of pink shoes

and rhythm is rhythm

as you well know

a little metalic here

compared whith the soft one in Jerusalem on evening

once more

the best energies leave different galaxies

                                  coming and going and back

      look at me

I’ve been the girl grown in another culture

                      nothing personal but personal

what’s the past,what’s present or future

it cannot be clear talking but

come on,it’s really important

if everything is at some place

                or not,as you like

we had roasted Turkish coffee,we had Goldstar beers

                                      now simply

already awake

morning naked

in the northern neighborhoods


                            hidden to be eaten later

stay a while for this Babel

the real linguistic one

                               Russian and the others

                                      Yiddish,slang,some from Morocco

Mediterranean pleasant honour

a little piece of pita bread

                              perfect with

it sounds good

added to palms,urban statues,yellow road signs

once more

which reality is this reality

quickly ashamed and heart attack

there was a war,a war is somewhere

a waiting list of holydays to remember all the wars and deads

precise clean tombstones

which reality is this one :          just a story to carry on

                                                   carry on in any case

and make love

and find the best to get

                               in breathing and carring on

whithin the week always

it doesn’t care the occasion

a softer touching event,soon very soon it’s written

Jesus was a good fellow

once more

and how long even stronger

T.A. weekdays four in the morning so empty

just taxies hunting someone to bring

and last newspapers ready on the sidewalk

there are  columns,window with venetian blinds

and between       dirty brave cats

take the other side

discussion is to deliver territories

and sketchy pictures recur

                                  and ideas come and go

a movie is also this

well-mannered traffic lights ’round a female square

here it is a pantomime without audience

take the other side

and shocking galleries

and caves

and Fishman and Frishman street

and jasmine and nana tea

and children with dogs wet their hans in puddles

and peep-shows

and hot storm in early march

and Noblesse so cheap so hard

and in case of attempted resuscitation,

                                snake bite or scorpion sting

                                go immediately to nearest hospital

and call me back

and painted faces for the party

and red-yellow letter boxes

and which reality which history which story

I’m going to chase the next one


my alphabet is empty now

full of exotic appetizers

hidden for harsh people

colapsing in a while

my words in boxes and grapes

a research side to side

without a tribe

to be free

the title should be

all the story I said

I have been idle and cheeky

I have been lost

I have been froth

finally I have been aware

sparkling for news

and gathering pieces

to some different theses

so simple

it was

later on we’ll steal the night

distant fingers moving a side



brave and shocked

scent of tangerine now

a tipsy dance


how did the storms be back

how did

companionships land or sail

and commuters of ideas

change clothes office to home

stolen ash

brittle flush for the roses

start smailing,you do

and be companion

either good or bad

’cause we’ll steal the night

shots of halleluya

singing in the deep

and steams all along that way

here we go

running time

it’s not a joke

I don’t exist for a day

and today is perfect

so perfect I thought

rainy tuesday ruby tuesday

an honest day I thought


I don’t exist for a day

look for my eyes

sunshine is coming so I’ll disappear

shine the shadow

shine the shortage

shine the shape

the shape we are in

and stop

stop falling

stop dropping


this is the road,you see

all over the open field

all over the merry sky

actually a playground where

everyone is searching for a trip

a good good one,you know

remember the spiced sorrows

and the little delights

and the ghost cities you have been in

and the ghost cities you’re going to

so scratch the lines

when you blow away the blue

plenty of things fall apart

no longer exist

and whatever happens

this kind of days

they are magicians and travellers

they are pretty cool at all


( photo courtesy of Mauro Migoni)