SANTORINI September 99
Crossing perpetually from the underworld
To the upper and from the upper to the down,
I didn’t know where I saw more beauty
or more fright.
The mortal body as multiplied
In billions in the stars
Like immortal and of a stranger.
Escaping in the walkman
Is the same asphyxiating
As the escape in no-doing
In the unwritten poetry
The real life
When after having return in
And after all that was to happen
Again from the island of Calypso
To do those that were not to
In the unwritten poetry there is also
An Odysseus that
Having lived the whole of his life
Succeeds, when his is no young any more
To travel free.
Like a viscous sun
Shape , idea or dream
But for you to
Continue to live
Is a dream that you have to dream
The sign again was writing
For arrival and departure
Large with little lights
But all the stations of the train were not
The same Large
The pattern in the secret carpet
Is to finish ,in larger measure
In the same piece of one life
Neither the words that were speaking the speaker
Penetrating like deep arrows
That crossed not the sky
But the very rock
Neither the words that were like
The flame that clears the smoke
They were not
To spit the bitter wheat
They were locking the
And they were growing the seed
Yesterday happen the impossible
After 7 years
Even momentarily only.
Lasted so little
But it was exactly as I knew
It should be
Only the surprise that happened.
Invisible turns from 92 to 96.
They gave totally different
Landscapes in the underworld
I mean the hidden
Different colors in lava
Hell for sure
At least that which I chose
To cross and not that
That they hooked
In the inaccessible
The crystals of Shining stone
Still exist all of them
Scattered but verified
A matter of unpredictable
The new sun ready to be born!
The temples and the Gods changed again.
The beloved words that are not any more
The world dissolved greater
And the threats closer and bigger
But it is more and more late for failures
People began to live with the new concepts
Of an other fate ,better for sure
They started to wear them like new cloths
Without realizing the big step they did.
Who would remember the gap the separates
The new luck from the older?
We play with the worst demons of the ancient
And we do not even understand from where they came, why they are here and what is to happen.
The murder lost as killing but won a big victory
As an irreparable delay or
as ashes of a Precious flame.
What was not dared to be desired ,
Now it is a gift
And it is not only that they do not know what to
Say , or write
but also what to feel about it.
Besides, all that were so passionate and sure about it
Has been lost and with them the old self too.
I keep know a careful distance
from the hell and the
At least as far as is to play right the role
Of the human being with the many ways.
Reading of old notes:
I opened with uncertainty
The old manuscripts
If I should read them!
As they say it is better not to
Dig out more ancient ruins
So as to keep them better
For the coming centuries
I was looking the words
In the old sheets of paper.
Around each word,
Of beautiful colors
Reading them :
I hardly checked
Some of them
All the other lost
The words remained
Now the writing is white-frost
A little later shall be a stalactite
Like a grape from coral
Or like leafs of an evergreen tree
That gathers morning-drops
Or even like actions
That are :
Them or the words