Up in Smoke

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(foto di Anna Facchinetti)

DSC_1352(foto di Mattia Terribile)

*

.
not sure
if it was the metropolis

.
– and the jungles they hold
where we had roamed through
.
or the islands
within the same –

.
we felt alone among
thousands

.

I should have

treaded on

.

not being stapled
to my own thoughts of

failure focusing on

some other survival
.

.
the incessant sounds
attacking us louder
disorienting forcing

us on movement
,
or the far ones – in stillness
only the wind has a voice

.
stirring the waves to have
more and animals wild
.
eyes focusing off the horizon

squared lines confining
blocks or concentric ones
as the life rings on a tree
.

.
you count twenty eight then

call me out I found numbers
we had forgot – it used to be larger
green not the horrible burgundy
.
I shiver some on the island
we could hear the sound of
our own hair sitting close
animal’s life pulsing

(Anna Mosca)

Up in Smoke, July 2013

.

.3

(foto di Anna Facchinetti)

 .                                                                    **

 .                                                                    unlike touch

 .                                                                    me, I don’t need

 .                                                                    contact to receive

 .                                                                    and like it I am spread

 .                                                                    all over tasting a breeze

 .                                                                    on my skin while smelling

 .                                                                    the salted mist held in the air

.

 .                                                                    I shiver a bit from the deep blue

 .                                                                    pondering we have met and not touch

(Anna Mosca)