Un Mondo Lontano
My mother lived between two worlds. In Rome, Where the folds of family And the beauty of…
Poetry
The Worst Performer
Sometimes, I, the great pretender, In the mirror, late at night, Think about the quirks…
Le Bateau en état d’ébriété (1870)
– Après Arthur Rimbaud, pace John Thompson As I sluiced wild, homicidal channels, The…
Blades
Red tinted wings soaring over whitened wintry steppes Flocks of cardinals murmur…
Autumn
The wind brings cool air and swirling leaves falling gracefully to the ground, covering…
The Pitch
– For Len Gasparini I could have mumbled a poem at you Easily yet the mornings bring a…
To Marshall McLuhan
You were right, dear professor, the great vortex came in time whirling us into the pond…
Language
when my mother died so did our language the one we spoke each day at the kitchen table…
Wasted Talent
“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a…
On the Trace of a Desire
You were blowing like a light breeze I felt you on my skin like a whirlwind. I brought my…