Gradually adding recorded readings to my written poetry.
in the absence of myself
in my failure to correspond please read not
between those lines you seem to see
painted stark white on your road
for they have been laid down by your hand
and so they don’t exist in my terrain
or perhaps they stretched out always
rivering around nook and rock
obscured by those places
that don’t know the clocks in your quadruple-time universe
and despite the vicinity of the same sun
which causes such spin
from a trajectory I didn’t know I was part of
i was amputated
a glitch in orbit,
a piece of dumbly-iced flotsam that found itself
awed, though not always
and this perceived complacency sank me
from knee-deep to neck
in a matter of syllables and presumptions
left me to incubate and tongue a newly-hatched mythology of another
uphill into the airless
call me Cassandra, call me Sisyphus, call me at a…
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poems, prose and pathways
Writer | Artist
Fatos e Curiosidades sobre a natureza e tecnologia
Meditations on Art and Life
"per l' allegria il pianeta nostro è poco attrezzato. Bisogna strappare la gioia ai giorni futuri "
a resource for moving poetry
Linking collage work to the meaning of personal and universal symbols.
This is my adventurous story about buying, designing, and renovating homes in ITALY
Wonderful poetic progression which would probably lead to finding identity…
‘call me Cassandra, call me Sisyphus’ …
These verses stand out: ‘obscured by those places/that don’t know the clocks in your quadruple-time universe’
Thanks for sharing!…Best wishes, Aquileana 😛
Thanks Aquileana as always for reading, and for your comment 😉