noisy
In this great shouting in the merchandise
this enchantment with the words of the listener
hired as whores
no other measure that the silence ...
look in his eyes when nests
certain promises and testimonies are stripped of fantasy where the night is
night light that you see is light
and the language is silent as defeat closed in the cage
teeth and what happens
feel like a forgotten shadow.
BORDER
Which place are you pregnant? What
voice your prayer
you from passive consumers
crossing?
as an arrow pierced the sky
echoes those metals.
That night it rained tears
of stars with the lament of God
HEAR THE SONATA FOR VIOLIN AND PIANO George Enescu
... How?
do not mean the language of the staff. ... A love
incapable?
This is your complaint?
If you love may be unable
you ask?
love has no eyes. He has expertise
or foundation.
is a crater that opens
suddenly be filled with sand grains. Your
care to count everyone
in the presence of wind.
SOUL IN CLOSED
In closed
soul is the source of
gestures where the waters flow
ancient procedure.
come to the surface like moles
the plain - and suddenly the ground when it's late
refute them with the civil trial.
Sick oxygen
are slaves chained to the window of the landscape
horizon.
Unable to dig that deep in the slot where the thought
check and not censorship.
We turn to an entry
We turn to a heading or other
that resembles the sound of the wind as the notes of a violin
the cries of a gabbiana
the light of dawn.
We turn to a heading to be able to stop
examine the position
measure the nostalgia of that last
flat with the tempo of the heart.
We turn to an entry for
not feel alone make eye contact through the distracted
convincing the mind that this is the road. We turn to an entry
the same without hearing it (or a stranger us that stamp) that act as nature
hoping
behind the urging of God
TIENTELA TRUTH IN YOUR POCKET
Tientela in the pocket Your truth
- foreman. It's helpful for your dreams
contraband.
Like you I too will own a
quickly scribbled on a paper surplus
similarly
and my brother and all members of the circle of life
they possess one. What is the exact
that adapts according to the substance
long c'impegnerà
in sterile trenching
ended up crashing around me
the scaffolding of the possibility.
COREUTA OF THE ARGO
The scene is not the same. At one time we were crowd
community
Singers needed for the spaciousness granted.
And never missed the underscore
because everyone understood what the story tells
- it was treachery incest or burial.
See it now: a bunch of improvised equipped
narrators - seabed mechanized
microphones speakers - on the scenic stage
immeasurably
lost in the space of that perimeter. You see them in the air like trying
jokes from mouth to mouth like toads hopping
glass.
no longer participate in the representation.
No more prayer. Membership.
No more is heard our constant interlayer
quell'intermittenza dialogue
reassuring
quell'intromissione ...
short
of consciousness.
between bites CYCLE
is shrouded in silence
Response.
sitting at the head
cloistered with his secret. If only we knew
(currently not known how) and the other between bites
formulate the question.
CONVERSATION
is leaving the day to evening
- said the father. I feel the scent of mulberry trees and there is plenty here
and quiet to sleep
home.
not night - said the son -
and fasting is not weak my legs.
Behind the hill are clusters of gold
and we discover a desire
indomitable.
THE WITNESS
not judge my contribution
on account of my blindness. Intended
still have not seen what I believed
.
I found
I have found by digging in the ground
mystery.
Neither spiritual depth
bringing forth things I have achieved appropriate.
I have not found ...
as some try
opening boxes filled with sacredness. But no less true
my sorrow and doubt as religion
the Presence of perseverance.
AWAKENING
There is a continuum
un'arrivare
degrees for the solution. It is the applicant
cockcrow
open the window and
not recognize the landscape.
not remember the night.
THE ANIMAL
wandered among tufts of grass with the sun scorching
that was aimed at him. A
a pool stopped. The legs trembling
for body fat. A rustle
warned him at that moment. He stood listening
(
who could have known those who knew - so -
the occurrence? )
split between the insatiable drinking
el'incognito everywhere
removal.
NELL'ATTESA
Here are waiting in the moonlight
as I usually do: Time
in advance just enough so that I could lose
in those with short steps
pendulum motion of the angle marked
and to return it
- oblivious to me -
; expected.
as stone
As the stone ...
compact
immutable
true where mail
not unique to itself by creating
smooth melancholy
hate
useless promises that unearthed
is symptomatic of steps
humus
hum of fossil evidence such as stone
shall not want ...
prove my existence.
MEETING
not that we met on April 16
the thousand and nine hundred and ninety.
Right there - remember? - On the bench where they sat
ever.
We exchanged a few words to our lips
they could not pronounce. We were like flowers
waiting to be picked.
Two flowers in the desert of the crowd.
Never had our names as perfume.
res nullius
What then we all grieve
dense meat that suffering to the heart of guilt
but we know nothing. Marked
incipit is like a misplaced comma in verse
before creation.
The formula that absolves us there is no
- hyphenated. Missing
is any attempt to pronounce.
Irremediably
we listen.
side note
This and more we now know
not be true.
We believed for a long time
and many died without knowing. Until then
whole had not evolved the
inconoscenza.
the chair EMPTY
Around a table sat the man a hand
the case to his left to right
what is said Destiny.
Opposite
a chair empty
deviated from that margin unadorned. Resting
there is a cap in place of return.
He rummaged
IN THE SKY
Rummaging in the Sky
the sun dazzles
of quell'inganno
they do write.
let Al sleep
what remains
forget what you
Literature.
THIS IS NOT A POEM
This is not a poem
is the mystery that beats the score
the dawning of a voice
the ship sails on the horizon.
When the rain beats on the wall
, is the water that soothes the crack
skeleton abandoned by meat
the battle that moss.
This is not a poem is proof of the contrary
the circular shape of the projection
guilty last hope.
For your forgotten dreams
is what you're looking for - the reader.
You will have longer arms
, pulling them up from your portrait.
pennies
It's our destiny to the market price
pennies
of flesh and blood
or perhaps are not worth all
failure of the short term.
successful merchant is the time.
Buyer
in all his profits to the old shopkeeper there sells
with the promise immortality
and accompanied by her laugh when
move the hand to greet
grateful.
ON THRESHOLD
The key in his hands to tighten the door
and that last look in the shadows:
the glass left on the table the chair
ajar the door of the pantry open. Then the ritual
dell'incedere
the blinding sun in the footsteps scrape the wind
- where we come from where?
We continue TO SAY
We continue to say as if there was more to say.
As if it had been said
all about human affairs.
However I find this quite natural. Those who are equally
centuries to come
continue life as death to investigate.
What matters to them that others have written
pages filled with ink?
will not be required to know
going to exhume the graves of thought.
In fact - they will be at that moment the government
dell'adempienza.
Will their breath to scramble to a miserable
ruling or the ferocity feelings.
will count just that everything has already happened. Told
- equally.
exile
We're getting used to this place. For the oscillation
nothing surprises us
by light at night as the sea or the
malastagione nor the torment of the earth
to the yawn of her womb.
We're getting used to ourselves
our vigils in our sleep
chatter
to blame for the pain of the head as the lameness
nor the wall now more c'infastidisce
horizon that blocks the path
and this court
looks cluttered look beyond forbids.
the wise
Sorry - lords -
not believe
gleaming proclamations to the language syntactic
caught at the thought of someone who has never blasphemed.
Stop off the white robes
clawed hands to dig the hole
watery eyes from dust. Unnamed
your opinion arises from the stomach and mouth primordial
make sounds
articulating phonemes visceral:
trumpeting ... ... barking sharp chirps. Only then will I believe
bent of my illusions
what you will say to grant the world.
THE REQUEST
Taken by conscience
are looking for you everywhere
for this dense bush.
liquefattoti But how can I find them no
between the branch and leaf?
If I hid myself
would you come to look for God?
© John Abbate. All Rights Reserved.
In this great shouting in the merchandise
this enchantment with the words of the listener
hired as whores
no other measure that the silence ...
look in his eyes when nests
certain promises and testimonies are stripped of fantasy where the night is
night light that you see is light
and the language is silent as defeat closed in the cage
teeth and what happens
feel like a forgotten shadow.
BORDER
Which place are you pregnant? What
voice your prayer
you from passive consumers
crossing?
as an arrow pierced the sky
echoes those metals.
That night it rained tears
of stars with the lament of God
HEAR THE SONATA FOR VIOLIN AND PIANO George Enescu
(Daniela)
... How?
do not mean the language of the staff. ... A love
incapable?
This is your complaint?
If you love may be unable
you ask?
love has no eyes. He has expertise
or foundation.
is a crater that opens
suddenly be filled with sand grains. Your
care to count everyone
in the presence of wind.
SOUL IN CLOSED
In closed
soul is the source of
gestures where the waters flow
ancient procedure.
come to the surface like moles
the plain - and suddenly the ground when it's late
refute them with the civil trial.
Sick oxygen
are slaves chained to the window of the landscape
horizon.
Unable to dig that deep in the slot where the thought
check and not censorship.
We turn to an entry
We turn to a heading or other
that resembles the sound of the wind as the notes of a violin
the cries of a gabbiana
the light of dawn.
We turn to a heading to be able to stop
examine the position
measure the nostalgia of that last
flat with the tempo of the heart.
We turn to an entry for
not feel alone make eye contact through the distracted
convincing the mind that this is the road. We turn to an entry
the same without hearing it (or a stranger us that stamp) that act as nature
hoping
behind the urging of God
TIENTELA TRUTH IN YOUR POCKET
Tientela in the pocket Your truth
- foreman. It's helpful for your dreams
contraband.
Like you I too will own a
quickly scribbled on a paper surplus
similarly
and my brother and all members of the circle of life
they possess one. What is the exact
that adapts according to the substance
long c'impegnerà
in sterile trenching
ended up crashing around me
the scaffolding of the possibility.
COREUTA OF THE ARGO
The scene is not the same. At one time we were crowd
community
Singers needed for the spaciousness granted.
And never missed the underscore
because everyone understood what the story tells
- it was treachery incest or burial.
See it now: a bunch of improvised equipped
narrators - seabed mechanized
microphones speakers - on the scenic stage
immeasurably
lost in the space of that perimeter. You see them in the air like trying
jokes from mouth to mouth like toads hopping
glass.
no longer participate in the representation.
No more prayer. Membership.
No more is heard our constant interlayer
quell'intermittenza dialogue
reassuring
quell'intromissione ...
short
of consciousness.
between bites CYCLE
is shrouded in silence
Response.
sitting at the head
cloistered with his secret. If only we knew
(currently not known how) and the other between bites
formulate the question.
CONVERSATION
is leaving the day to evening
- said the father. I feel the scent of mulberry trees and there is plenty here
and quiet to sleep
home.
not night - said the son -
and fasting is not weak my legs.
Behind the hill are clusters of gold
and we discover a desire
indomitable.
THE WITNESS
not judge my contribution
on account of my blindness. Intended
still have not seen what I believed
.
I found
I have found by digging in the ground
mystery.
Neither spiritual depth
bringing forth things I have achieved appropriate.
I have not found ...
as some try
opening boxes filled with sacredness. But no less true
my sorrow and doubt as religion
the Presence of perseverance.
AWAKENING
There is a continuum
un'arrivare
degrees for the solution. It is the applicant
cockcrow
open the window and
not recognize the landscape.
not remember the night.
THE ANIMAL
wandered among tufts of grass with the sun scorching
that was aimed at him. A
a pool stopped. The legs trembling
for body fat. A rustle
warned him at that moment. He stood listening
(
who could have known those who knew - so -
the occurrence? )
split between the insatiable drinking
el'incognito everywhere
removal.
NELL'ATTESA
Here are waiting in the moonlight
as I usually do: Time
in advance just enough so that I could lose
in those with short steps
pendulum motion of the angle marked
and to return it
- oblivious to me -
; expected.
as stone
As the stone ...
compact
immutable
true where mail
not unique to itself by creating
smooth melancholy
hate
useless promises that unearthed
is symptomatic of steps
humus
hum of fossil evidence such as stone
shall not want ...
prove my existence.
MEETING
not that we met on April 16
the thousand and nine hundred and ninety.
Right there - remember? - On the bench where they sat
ever.
We exchanged a few words to our lips
they could not pronounce. We were like flowers
waiting to be picked.
Two flowers in the desert of the crowd.
Never had our names as perfume.
res nullius
What then we all grieve
dense meat that suffering to the heart of guilt
but we know nothing. Marked
incipit is like a misplaced comma in verse
before creation.
The formula that absolves us there is no
- hyphenated. Missing
is any attempt to pronounce.
Irremediably
we listen.
side note
This and more we now know
not be true.
We believed for a long time
and many died without knowing. Until then
whole had not evolved the
inconoscenza.
the chair EMPTY
Around a table sat the man a hand
the case to his left to right
what is said Destiny.
Opposite
a chair empty
deviated from that margin unadorned. Resting
there is a cap in place of return.
He rummaged
IN THE SKY
Rummaging in the Sky
the sun dazzles
of quell'inganno
they do write.
let Al sleep
what remains
forget what you
Literature.
THIS IS NOT A POEM
This is not a poem
is the mystery that beats the score
the dawning of a voice
the ship sails on the horizon.
When the rain beats on the wall
, is the water that soothes the crack
skeleton abandoned by meat
the battle that moss.
This is not a poem is proof of the contrary
the circular shape of the projection
guilty last hope.
For your forgotten dreams
is what you're looking for - the reader.
You will have longer arms
, pulling them up from your portrait.
pennies
It's our destiny to the market price
pennies
of flesh and blood
or perhaps are not worth all
failure of the short term.
successful merchant is the time.
Buyer
in all his profits to the old shopkeeper there sells
with the promise immortality
and accompanied by her laugh when
move the hand to greet
grateful.
ON THRESHOLD
The key in his hands to tighten the door
and that last look in the shadows:
the glass left on the table the chair
ajar the door of the pantry open. Then the ritual
dell'incedere
the blinding sun in the footsteps scrape the wind
- where we come from where?
We continue TO SAY
We continue to say as if there was more to say.
As if it had been said
all about human affairs.
However I find this quite natural. Those who are equally
centuries to come
continue life as death to investigate.
What matters to them that others have written
pages filled with ink?
will not be required to know
going to exhume the graves of thought.
In fact - they will be at that moment the government
dell'adempienza.
Will their breath to scramble to a miserable
ruling or the ferocity feelings.
will count just that everything has already happened. Told
- equally.
exile
We're getting used to this place. For the oscillation
nothing surprises us
by light at night as the sea or the
malastagione nor the torment of the earth
to the yawn of her womb.
We're getting used to ourselves
our vigils in our sleep
chatter
to blame for the pain of the head as the lameness
nor the wall now more c'infastidisce
horizon that blocks the path
and this court
looks cluttered look beyond forbids.
the wise
Sorry - lords -
not believe
gleaming proclamations to the language syntactic
caught at the thought of someone who has never blasphemed.
Stop off the white robes
clawed hands to dig the hole
watery eyes from dust. Unnamed
your opinion arises from the stomach and mouth primordial
make sounds
articulating phonemes visceral:
trumpeting ... ... barking sharp chirps. Only then will I believe
bent of my illusions
what you will say to grant the world.
THE REQUEST
Taken by conscience
are looking for you everywhere
for this dense bush.
liquefattoti But how can I find them no
between the branch and leaf?
If I hid myself
would you come to look for God?
© John Abbate. All Rights Reserved.
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