Journal of Italian Translation

Piazza Nicolai-Merwin-Lecomte-Rosselli-Bigon
Absurd Paragraph
I move from shadow to shadow
in order not to burn. Grotesque
like being seated on a tree’s
branch to talk to the self.
It is so incredibly distant
maybe never a part of this world
(across what fissure will
the camel come to pass?)
Reality unravels sleepwalking
across a surreal landscape,
bugs everywhere – blossoming lies
with an overview in perspective
ascetic glaciers, surviving lymph.
I’m not so sure if it is worth
making believe it is all ideal.
An absurd paragraph:
don’t throw away the pure fiction.
August flies off
like a leaf
across the tree tops
with someone who blows
beneath it to make it fly.
Maybe reason doesn’t hold
but the field is expanding
wherever there is | one
measure of greatness,
and as we delude ourselves
we lose our roots.
That silvery filament
binding spirits
to the earth | fades away
into thin air.
You would like your tree
as an oak made of light
with roots
dug deep into the ground.
Oak Tree or Leaf
185