The night is a voracious reader
for songs that survive for some days
and I don't know how to make compliments
and I don't know the words I'm looking for
but when we make love on the floor
I'm scared of vultures
that could mine our laid-down shape
you small and foolish
turn my buzz into music
rise up like the Sahara sun
come dance a mambo with me
I'll teach you to sing the night

Veronica

Eternal Dance

Marta didn’t know what love is
How can one think to need it?
All is beautiful and new
In this life that’s a discovery
A thing to watch, then one thing to do
Marta found love one day
In the sunny grass of the summer camp
She had never thought of it before
But that happened oh so naturally
She laughed softly with her friends, she gave it a go
I still sometimes go to the place of that summer camp
Where one of my big monkey dreams closed its curtains
The curtains have enveloped my lungs
And colored them red, carved holes through which
I can breathe deeper, but oxygen is in chunks
Marta’s mother has long breathed, too
The dusty smell of these mountains
Love bones and burning tires
And her big tears that fall contain
A proud consolation, and atoms of fatuous fires


Marta

Making Love to Carol

This beautiful night
is just like many others
a garage of ready objects
with a downslide
and an overview
beneath the vineyard and then the stars
photographs
move, my friend
I’ll take the hit
and if even this is gonna end
it must be a good thing
Oh, juicy night that’s not here, not here
a garage of ready objects
allusive eyes, dark in the kitchen
and a staircase that goes down
photographs
just move, my friend
I’ll take the hit
and if even this is gonna end
it must be a good thing
just move, my friend
I’ll take the hit…he’ll take the hit…
she’ll take the hit…you’ll take the hit


August

In the midst of that
there’s the pain
in the midst of that
it rains again
I’m the daylight
I’m the veil
I’m the darkened room
at the end of the trail
In the midst of that…
when the time has come
I’ll be the waves
between the lion’s fangs,
then in the flames
will you take the chance
and drive me ashore
will you do your best
to clean my gore
in the midst of that…


Alberto Bombarelli

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