Lasciateci entrare in un mondo più vasto
in uno spazio che non ci appartiene
senza intenzione di sottrarre a nessuno:
niente mappe per tornarci niente strade
solo coordinate trovate per caso in un valore
mancante ad un calcolo a margine.
Le dimensioni che ci diamo non bastano
se non a trovare al centro l’unione l’inizio
il punto d’origine da cui partire da qua.
cities were never really my thing
but there is something here that
calls – maybe not to me but
maybe not to all of me maybe not
as loudly as it thinks but I
do hear my name ringing
in the jingle of traffic lights
in the chirping of train platforms
and it draws me closer, line after
line to a feeling no longer
just a sketch not just a draft
and no matter how much I laugh it away
it’s there it calls it carries me
for a while – just a little longer as
the light dims it carries more
than just my name, and eyelids
and limbs feel heavier and slower
than they have in a long time and
I let the city carry
the soft ringing of my name
slowly fading into town
fading from shi to cho
from here to home and I’m
back I’m back I’m back
too many roads to cross too many bridges too many inches becoming centimetres slowly crawling timezone over timezone through mountains and planes into plain sight. i see you and i do not want and i see you and i do and all the helplessness rises up again and again and again. teach me the sounds of moving and splashing and dokidoki and jumping and glitter and mochimochi and squelching after a long day of rain and the sound that minds make when the spark is shared when the shock is spared when we pair words when we fare well in the worlds apart we inhabit. at least it was here, right? at least we did not count the reasons we should stay they remain they maintain they are still also here still reasons still valid they still count. i do not want to feel how much it hurts or how much joy it brings but i do, i let it swell and inflate and modulate my lungs and stomach. i choose books and screens and pages that tell me what i’ve left where i’ve been when i’ve said which instincts we’ve followed and what lines we’ve crossed and what we leave behind. so we leave traces we leave marks we leave signs. and we fall. and we leave. believe when i say that books were made for this that books were made out of this that oceans were made out of rivers for stars and bears and nights to shine that moon and sun are one and we count to five and sleep, at last.
before we got lost
our words carved the paths we took.
just read back, and smile
140story is still running, terribly strong for a tiny Twitter thing. Give them some love!
Towards fresh flowing waters
they linked their paths,
channelling the music
the hues and flavours
of a crowd winding its way
with measure and care
around rise and falls of a score
towards a crossroads on the track
stepped across the borders.
They did not change that much
they did not stay the same, either.
They could not stay, so left
goodbyes rolling off the tongue
with ease, at last.
safe in a trouser pocket:
please step forward now.
Da che Macondo torni, girovago
qual ragione ti ha stretto a sé
tenendoti un giorno ancora.
Da che Wandernburg parti, girovago
quali incontri ti hanno preso
danzando sulla pista notturna.
Da che città invisibile ti separi, girovago
quanti ricordi lasci dietro te
riportando solo memorie in bassa risoluzione.
Da che Altroquando scappi, girovago
quali paure e problemi abbandoni
sperando di nascondere le tue tracce.
Da che Londra di Sotto arrivi, girovago
e per quanto ancora cercherai nuove mete
tracciando sentieri nelle pagine d’atlante
scomparendo dietro la curva, al giro d’un altro giorno.
Dove te ne andrai, girovago, al prossimo capitolo?