If we left the deserted ways one morning
to the patient work of silence
thick cobwebs would soon climber
concentric under the archs of stone
everyone mirroring at the trembling light
a half-closed passage of this town.
But we would pass through them anyway
carrying invisible
ruins of fragilities
which couldn’t be recognized.
Originally posted in Italian on August 23, 2008 at 1:02
Mu
Two messy eyebrows
one little childhood scar.
The skyline on the sand
and four drops of green tea.
So one writes blank.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Passages
Labels:
for whom the lights stay on,
heidelberg
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