Wingtips

Pinocchio in sand

In the Evening

The colours of the house fade,
give way to the sky that overflows
at the fork of moon and stars.

Pinocchio's Story in Sand

The White Season

She shuts all drawers; can't shut her eyes at night,
goes outside where the sea scales
darkness and leaves her in moon bones.
Spring is a good season, whiter
than a gull's egg.

After a long time

I've decided I'll post again, will choose lines from old poems, lines written
for dear people  who are passing through  a hard period.

 

She combs her hair
as if brushing stars from the world's forehead,
as if rearranging pieces of her universe.

Warmest greetings to all of you

I am a bit late for Christmas, but still in time to greet you  a wonderful 2010. I think the best way to greet a better world is with the innocence  of a child. here's a friend's daughter.

Coming Back

Coming Back

It's like telling the past to the dry stones
in the river-- you sneak your fingers, displace
the clinging spiders, unwrap places you visited
and hear the friction of years, the creaking of leaves
once buds and now skin holed by worms.
You ask for help to old people, to the images carved
in their hearts, but they forgot words,
only wait  to harvest the last crop of stars.