POETRY

TRACKS Death does not put me more afraid. They get so many comrades continually. I will find the way following quietly their fresh tracks. (Henrik Ibsen) http://www.amazon.com/Ibsens-Poems-Henrik-Ibsen/dp/8200074552  

BLACK AND WITHE PICTURES     Star outfitted in a row gray fence in front of the house gray in the fog they start up flight from the fog on black wings into the light. (Gyrdir Eliasson) http://www.amazon.co.uk/Stone-Tree-Gyrdir-Eliasson/dp/1905583087

BLACK MAPS Not the attendance of stones, nor the applauding wind, shall let you know you have arrived, not the sea that celebrates only departures, nor the mountains, nor the dying cities. Nothing will tell you where you are. Each moment is a place you’ve never been. You can walk believing you cast a light around you. But how will …

BY ONE WHO PASS’D FOR CHAMBERMAID By one who pass’d for Chamber-Maid. Tho’ by her loose and sluttish Dress, She rather seem’d a Bedlam-Bess. Curious to know from whence she came, I prest her to declare her Name. She Blushing, seem’d to hide her Eyes, And thus in Civil Terms replies: In better Times, e’er to this Land, I was …

NOT ALL ENDS Not everything ends. It all starts as a whimper. It all begins, and with reddened eyes. Ah, father. Pain generates. I love sleeping on a leaf. Enchantment blue is love. Red carnation as exploding in the shadows, pale, ardent love is. It all begins. At times, breaking the mass of clouds, the penalty had so hoped. Will …

BLOOD If it is the moon that governs the tides, what strange star controls the blood of our two different bodies? It is a star that your eyes can not see, not even mine, it lives hidden by the moon and the sun. His subject cruel plays with the signs of its particles, without fear to get in danger of …

JUEGAS TODOS LOS DIAS CON LA LUZ DEL UNIVERSO Juegas todos los días con la luz del universo. Sutil visitadora, llegas en la flor y en el agua. Eres más que esta blanca cabecita que aprieto, como un racimo entre mis manos cada día. A nadie te pareces desde que yo te amo. Déjame tenderte entre guirnaldas amarillas. Quién escribe …

SMELL OF RAIN The air door suddenly memories from oblivion, with horizon flavor, wet grass and absence. Diffuse color and sharp, almost like masterless, mask or inhabitant, limpid workforce, highly ethereal. Spirits, spirit, traces of memory that runs in his blank saturated: fires, bodies, the, tracks, words. (Rodolfo Alonso) http://www.amazon.com/The-Art-Keeping-Quiet-1952-2011/dp/1784630330 http://www.amazon.com/Defensa-Coleccion-hispanoamericanas-Spanish-Edition/dp/9508432055 http://www.amazon.it/rumore-mondo-Poesie-scelte-1952-2007/dp/8895884140/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1441178452&sr=1-1&keywords=Doppiofondo+-+Poesia

IS YOU I push me beyond my limits, and I feel fully live my own life. In you I met myself and I looked over, beyond unimaginable limits. I looked deep into your eyes, trying to understand you, but I saw everything about me, I never wanted to see. I saw my weakness and my insecurity, my guilt and my …

MY LOVE IS A RED ROSE   My love is a red red rose, bloomed in June, recently. My love is a song, the sweet sweet sound. You are beautiful, my fair one, and I, so in love that I will love you always, until the seas dry up, until the seas dry up and the rocks will melt in …