By the time earth is finished making it’s.   rounds
on all sides of the sun
my brain has already calculated twice a billion ways to stretch myself thin between
the moon and the stars.
I’ll settle for the ambivalence that links
my emotions and the atmosphere;
to submit to the gravity of what the world
could be.
All while knowing who I should be,
I float higher and higher in the opposite direction .
So the empyrean can cradle my chaos,
quietly without judgement.
The only reason I live is for the credible fact
we will all return back into stardust
and be spread out equally between all corners of the sky.

In the silence of the moment, when the world fades away,
Your presence wraps around me, like the soft light of day.
No need for words between us, we’ve always understood,
That every breath we take together, is a memory of good.
We’ve painted skies in colors, no one else could ever see,
Shared secrets in the quiet, where our hearts are wild and free.
With every step you take, the world feels just a little right,
A friendship built on moments that will last beyond the night.
Grace, like ivy, we’ve wrapped ourselves in time,
In the shadows of our whispers, where the world won’t find.
In the park at midnight, where the stars were all we knew,
We counted every constellation, just me and you.
At 12 AM, our hearts would race, like time was standing still,
With every wish we whispered, the world could never break our will.
Grace, you were my universe, my dream beneath the sky,
At that moment, I believed that time could never say goodbye
We wandered through the echoes, where the world was just our sound,
In every step, we found our place, where love would always surround us.
In the quiet of the night, when the stars began to fade,
We promised each other forever, in the memories we made.
Through seasons that would change us, we remained the same,
In every storm, we found the calm, calling each other’s name.
We’d dance in fields of memories, where the light would never die,
With every step we took together, we touched the endless sky.
Grace, in every heartbeat, I feel you by my side,
Like whispers in the twilight, where no secrets can hide.
In the park at midnight, where the stars were all we knew,
We counted every constellation, just me and you.
At 12 AM, our hearts would race, like time was standing still,
With every wish we whispered, the world could never break our will.
Grace, you were my universe, my dream beneath the sky,
At that moment, I believed that time could never say goodbye
And when the world fades away, and the skies begin to fall,
I’ll still hear your voice whispering, through every shadowed call.
Grace, you’re the fire that burns, the wind beneath my wings,
In the quiet of the night, you’re the song my heart still sings.
Through the storms that try to break us, we will never bend,
For in every twist of fate, you’ll always be my friend.
No matter where we wander, no matter where we roam,
In the silence of the universe, with you, I’m always home.
You’re the echo in my chest, the pulse that keeps me alive,
In the vastness of this world, with you, I’ll always survive.
Time will try to change us, but our hearts will stay the same,
For in every fleeting moment, we’ll be forever framed.
Grace, you’re my constant star, my light in the darkest skies,
And in the end, we’ll soar together, no more goodbyes.

Bello.
Non ** idea del perché.
Ma è bello questo paesaggio.

Grazie, cittadella in riposo.
Grazie, cielo puro e ammaliante.
Grazie, finestra cara,
che mi hai dato la possibilità
di vedere questo invisibile spettacolo.

Case semplici, piante non molto alte, alcune secche,
come in una terra all’industria
del necessario e il minimo per il buono.

Luce di lampioni
che illumina disordinata le strade,
come se il panico diurno fosse
congelato nel tempo dalla luce.
Eppure, anche nella pace,
l’uomo lo trascina con sé.

Tralicci che tagliano un cielo
senza nuvole e senza stelle,
non degno di essere amato dagli urbani,
che cercano solo il bello canonico,
antico, sterile.

Ma fortemente illuminato dalle città, il cielo,
che lo uccidono per convenienza.
E noi, sordi,
nemmeno ne udiamo il grido.

E poi, laggiù in fondo,
oltre l’autostrada,
altri grandi lampioni.
Pagane colonne d’Ercole,
Ignorate per voler del nostro
antropocentrismo,
lasciate a sbiadire
sul fondale.

Tutto nel silenzio di un istante
che non si apprezza più,
perché è memoria lontana
il tempo da perdere.


Non è nulla di che, a pensarci.
Eppure mi affascina.
La prima volta che, forse,
e dico solo forse,
trovo la magia nell’ordinario.

Forse ora capisco i grandi scrittori.
Forse la capirò meglio anch’io,
se davvero c’è magia.

Comunque,
so solo che questa visione è ferma,
vuota, angosciante per certi versi,
disperata,
morta.

Mi fa paura.

Ma, nonostante ciò,
mi fa stare bene.
E ne sono grato.

Grazie, cittaccia assassina.
Grazie, falso cielo ormai defunto.
Grazie, finestra svelatrice,
che mi hai permesso di vedere
questo melodrammatico spettacolo.

///

Beautiful.
I have no idea why.
But this landscape is beautiful.

Thank you, citadel in repose.
Thank you, pure and enchanting sky.
Thank you, dear window,
that you gave me the chance
to see this invisible spectacle.

Simple houses, plants not very tall, some dry,
as in a land of industry
of the necessary and the minimum for the good.

Light of street lamps
that illuminates the streets in a disorderly way,
as if the daytime panic was
frozen in time by the light.
And yet, even in peace,
man drags it with him.

Pylons that cut a sky
without clouds and without stars,
not worthy of being loved by urbanites,
who seek only the canonical beauty,
ancient, sterile.

But strongly illuminated by cities, the sky,
that **** it for convenience.
And we, deaf,
do not even hear its cry.

And then, down there,
beyond the highway,
other large streetlights.
Pagan Pillars of Hercules,
Ignored by the will of our
anthropocentrism,
left to fade
on the seabed.

All in the silence of a moment
that is no longer appreciated,
because it is a distant memory
the time to waste.

It is nothing special, if you think about it.
And yet it fascinates me.
The first time that, perhaps,
and I say only perhaps,
I find magic in the ordinary.

Perhaps now I understand the great writers.
Perhaps I will understand it better too,
if there really is magic.

In any case,
I only know that this vision is still,
empty, distressing in some ways,
desperate,
dead.

It scares me.

But, despite this,
it makes me feel good.
And I am grateful for it.

Thank you, murderous city.
Thank you, false sky now defunct.
Thank you, revealing window,
that allowed me to see
this melodramatic spectacle.

it remembers me.
the sky.
the mouth above the mouth.
the lightless gullet where clouds go to rot.

i kneel in the driveway
and my bones click like prayer beads.
i say nothing.
the wind fills in the blanks.

above,
the bruised vault peels open.
something pours out that smells like me—
ozone and old milk and motherlessness.

i know this feeling.
the ache behind the eye.
the tug in the marrow.
the static in the throat right before god speaks
and forgets my name again.

the sky remembers me.
like blood remembers stain.
like salt remembers wound.
like hunger remembers teeth.

and so i let it.
i open my mouth
and taste iron,
and ascend.

not float.
not rise.
just—
dislocate upward
until every tendon sings its own name
and snaps
like wet string.

there is no rupture.
there is no goodbye.
only the soft gulp
of return

Oh bread crumbs;

The birds have eaten up my path
Their sky has swallowed up my past,
They love to quickly spit it all out

As I shared the deepest parts of myself
With people that held no trust, or love –
Now my past is all they speak about

Now that's foul.

Looking at the explosion clouds.
There is a complete void of sound.
The September trees
are diminishing green,
in their lazy lean.
We are not just alive,
to satisfy hungers.
To examine bruised blunders.
Nature satisfies us too.
Bombs of peace in a sky cornflower blue.

In the still of night, a plan took flight,
Like doves in the sky, so pure and bright.
But shadows whispered of danger near,
God saw the path and drew you near.

With gentle wings, He changed the way,
Protecting your heart, come what may.
So let the doves fly, unburdened and true,
For what was meant to harm you, God turned into good.

Free inside the room allowed to lock
However such pleasures bring traps
Becoming isolated and forgetful
Not in the sense of the small things
Rather going shopping and forgetting the list
-
Had to make do with memory
Remembering the vegetables was easy
The miscellaneous items were fruitless
Just had to eyeball the aisles  
Keep my head down in case spotted by someone familiarly unpleasant  
-
A pretty girl from school worked at the shop
Wanted to see if she was still as beautiful
However that made me nervous
Why couldn’t everything be like the vegetables?
Made my way to checkout
-
Headed home with heavy bags
Trying to be careful as to not crush anything
Which reminded me with a pang
Forgot to buy the ****** eggs!
Mood soured as that was my breakfast
Too late to head back that would be embarrassing
What if the girl saw me and made for an entirely avoidable kerfuffle
-
Now awkwardly thinking what to have for breakfast
Arrived just outside my doorstep
The next door neighbour to the left was just leaving
How unfortunate and horrific
We asked each other how we were and conversely felt quite pleasant
Vented about my eggs fiasco which was met with love
My neighbour went inside and bought out a chicken