Were I Can Watch Xerex

Contesa, dolce e amara

Leisure stained whims without excuse or contours.
shapes for ghosts out of breath collection,
thrown away imaginary appearances.
Fanatic to the rain persists,
pressed down his beat.
Inside the bowels of the earth roots writhing,
crawling up the sun.

E 'contention, sweet and bitter. And here the words back to being real.
A pilgrimage in which no matter where you're running or where you're going, feel less important and defined the need to do it.
What puts the gears in motion, a force so strong that can blow up the North of the compass.
A rushing river breaking its banks carry away everything that is built on fragile foundations. There is no vehicle, nor half, only the impulse to strip the bulimic body convulsed by this force. The magnetic appeal is that the impetus dà nutrimento, come la legna quando brucia.
Spazza via, sgretolando sospiri, abissi e silenzi, strisciando nelle vene e muove dita, lingua, ore.

Kanacca's Secret Review 2010

Le chiamo parole

Nelle etichette le chiamo parole , non sono ambiziose, sono solo parole , nude e impotenti .
E' solo più semplice scavare intorno a un sentimento, a una emozione, è solo più semplice descriverne l' illusione .
E' solo più semplice accatastare parole come scatoloni in una soffitta .
'm just words that give meaning to put together a emotion or thought in and through me the same way as they have become would leave if they do not stop, writing them.
This blog is the place to make room for the life that escapes me.
I tried for years to keep a journal, I try again, but the white sheet immobilizes me for hours without being able to make magic and transform the volatile words that follow in the mind, thoughts in writing.

80's Aerobics Instructors

Ritorno alla Terra

One day I wrote that there are no stories ,
only sketched unrealistic attempts to make them so.
was the day I realized how much could cost me feel this way.

***

silently accepted by the Earthly Mother
f ogli autumn strip off their clothes their branches, slipping
inert on the air moist.
Voices dispersed infiltrate from parallel worlds utopias disillusioned ,
that the season has off.
soft lights, muster, draw shadows ,
faithful companions. Of
travel , false starts and returns .
Whirlpools snakes and sacrilegious rites welcome the new Winter .
Return to the naked Earth, carried away by the wind .