a curatorial content blog of modern and contemporary poetry, poetics, photography, philosophy, permaculture, and the arts

ritornano le oche
le loro ali
ancora piene di neve

their wings
still full of snow
the geese return

fine dell’inverno
uno scoiattolo segue ancora
il profumo della neve

end of winter
a squirrel still follows
the scent of snow

spring wind
the shelter of a leaf
somewhere

third

go on keep at it
till everything fits into two rooms or

stand out in the hall and look in and refuse to go in
either room

cocktail party . . .
the truth
will set you free

Tom Becket

THE WORD 

The word Was deferred

But I
Read delivered

*

Let’s dissolve One another

Let’s come Apart together

*

An atmosphere Of gender

As practice Or event

*

A moment Of discovery

Disguised as An ellipse

*

Word has It that

Throughlines wind And comingle

*

The word Was confused

But I
Was aroused

*

Our weathers Of love

And climate Of erosion

*

iris candidi . . .
perdonando a me stessa
tutti gli errori

white iris . . .
I forgive myself
for every mistake

margheritina . . .
piccolo cuore giallo s
ul marciapiede

daisy . . .
tiny yellow heart
from the sidewalk

Nikolay Grankin

In the basement of my apartment building lives the lady who worked for many years in the porter’s lodge. I am very fond of her, she has known me since I was a child. In the evening, when I come back home, I often go to say hello to her. I know her habits, I know that at the time of my coming back home, she is cooking for dinner, which is always the same, very frugal.

a hot broth
a spoonful of rice
an old woman