Day 30

Dear friend, 

you are spectacular, like the vibrato 

in the last seconds of a symphony

the excellent representation of a network

of minds working together, in unison

one sound, hundreds of sounds 

together like the hands ticking

on an old keyboard, typing words

and the eyes that will harvest the 

fruits of togetherness on a stage

you are the first violin of this quiet orchestra

I thank you

yes, you, behind that screen

scrolling down the page

whoever you say you are

wherever you’re said to be from

you are an amazing violinist

 

it was touching

to play

with you.

 

Day 29

Poems: how to read.

Read a poem

with caution

don’t dive down

into the words

immediately.

Taste the sounds

on your lips

hear the feelings

of your author.

Look out

of the window

skim over

people and places

encircle the essence

of moving photographs

the portraits

of joys and misery.

Love

outside your dreams

step forward

be inebriated

by awe, yearning and fears

stand up and do what

you would never dare

explore the places

down the street

you would have never thought

it is worth a visit

explore the city that

secretly

never sleeps.

Besiege

and defeat

the ivory tower

move on

to the next song

of your playlist

the wind among your fingers

will feel different

from a car running

at full speed.

Day 28

The sound of the sunset

Sometimes

you cannot just stop the power

of emotion bursting

unleashed by timeless sounds

brief episodes that hold your heart

so strong that it hurts

a child picking up shells by the sea

he sees a black spot before the dying sun

a dolphin dancing with the clouds above

he runs away, in bliss and wonder

looking for his grandpa, that secret

has to be told. It’s just too hard to

keep blasts of infinite for oneself

tragedies are for consolation

sparkles of perfection in time and space

are for the sake of life, breath the colours

of your skin under sunlight, in that instant when

the sea embraces the sand back and forth

death doesn’t scare when life blossoms

in every particle of the matter.

We are not helpless tramps

sleeping on a bench,

with a disenchanted expression

on the face

vivere

la musica

del tramonto.

Day 27

Sounds and images beyond the border

The chinking notes of a song I’ve never heard before

echo in an empty room, crammed by whispers

voices that used to live here lives ago, year by year

a sunbeam irradiating through the open-wide window

cutting through the air, in a milky way of dust and pollen

Knocks from below, names uttered behind closed doors

lovers on the grass, hiding their secret pleasures

behind sunglasses, before a cloud comes and shades.

Wherever you are now, you can hear the notes of that song

you can see the dust, the lovers, you can hear the knock

we both know that Summer comes, we are both there

when history happens.

Day 26

Memories 

Crossroads in time and space

of knights of youth sitting

at a round table telling

stories collected in their

quests around the continents

bright lights flashing on open-wide

eyes greedy to explore the secrets

of happiness

hiding behind the simplest things

empty shining glasses on a lurching table

blurred like colourful details

in a canvas painted by Degas

and the voices

and the smiles

and the twisting walls

like fleeing landscapes

out of a running train

in the countryside.

Day 25

The Idiot

The idiot stumbles and falters

Bewildered, he cannot see beyond his nose

He falls and never rises up again

But he awaits

Until some kind soul will give him

A hand to be the Idiot again.

He annoys the passers-by, dirty jokes

And swears colonise his mouth

Hated, mocked and derided

Yet he awaits

The day the folk will point at him and

Shout out: he is the most ingenious idiot of all!

He baths in forbidden fountains

He climbs solemn monuments

The disgrace of the town!

Night falls

And he awaits

The next day to come.

I will be an idiot

he says

I do not have much left to live

He moans

He jumps out of the crowd

And join the crusade of the idiots

Against the darkness

Of this lethargy

Slumber

Deadness

Torpidity

I would rather

Be the most ingenious

Idiot

Of all.

Day 24

The inevitable running of time.

 

I thought that my day was spaced out

By short, quick intervals of sixty seconds

Throughout which I could tell you

What thousands of poems cannot even touch

With tentacles of words and cries.

Sixty seconds seemed so long

Enough to change history

Open crossroads of time

But the door has just slammed

Behind your fading hologram.