"né più mi occorrono
Le coincidenze, le prenotazioni,
le trappole, gli scorni di chi crede
che la realtà sia quella che si vede."- Eugenio Montale, Xenia II
You dissolve like sugar in the lemon juice, til
you are just that gift of surf, the catch
in an oriole's song, the footfall that is almost
inaudible...
Signs without lives of their own,
never love, because never absence
(though they possess us as any lover,
dole out all we know with the perversity of the divine).
You rush through the vistas
of mountains and streams for the glimpses
in the golden air of the unfamiliar
remembered, but there's only a painful
reminder, that the lover, the great invisible,
is you, just as it's painful to remember
that other people are also angels, equally ghosts.
The fireflies rise, in an emerald evening,
dim enough to hold all our dreams
but too bright to offer salvation.
Then schrapnel thunder, that makes audible stars.
