12 Degrees & Skiving

what began as year-long challenge has become perpetual until further notice

NaPoWriMo • 14 April • Spalancata / Wide Open

mentre i sogni ancora hanno pedinato la carice
che circoscrivono il bordo della mente sveglia
e mi chiedevo di Jung
e quello che avrebbe pensato a tutto
(c’è un archetipo del nonno, o solo il padre?)
ho mangiato e respirato e parlato
con il mio amore, come normale
mentre il sogno di te ha orlato
il dolore dei piedi di vetro
in mari interni , contro venti che triturano,
le tossi secche coltivate​
da Cherry Cavendish, il tabacco profuma la stanza
come ci sono io
o sei qui
e convocano quelli che andavano, quelli che forse andavano
e quelli che andavano assolutamente
morire nelle orecchie dei fantasmi, te
che non hai mai sentito la mia voce nella tua vita
assordato da una metà di una vita nuova, un mezzo mondo dopo
avvolta nel frastuono d’industria
la forma cinabro di un suono sulle labbra
i tuoi libri, lo sherry la luce con cui hai letto

ora seguo i rivoli
della tua vita
quando, alle porte della guerra,
hai lasciato tutto quello che è stato lasciato a te
la porta del taxi spalancata,
la tua sopravvivenza significava
che posso mangiare qui il riempimento delle scelte
e decifrare attraverso le finestre arrotondate
di narrazione, e di amore
con vetri screpolati con la distanza
su cui distilla e condensa le verità
sto cavando quei racconti di terza mano
come liquore dalla betulla vecchia, o bramosia,
che corrono insieme
con quello cioè che resta di te
abbastanza per mettere in cantina la tua storia.

~ ~ ~

while dreams still stalked the sedge
that lines the edge of the waking mind
and I thought of Jung
and what he might make of it all
(is there a Grandfather archetype, or only father?)
I ate and breathed and spoke
with my love as normal
while the dream of you fringed
glass-footed pain
on inland seas, in shredding winds
hacking coughs cultivated
by Cherry Cavendish, tobacco scents the room like I’m there
or you’re here
and calls of the gone and the maybe gone
and the absolute gone
dying in ghost ears, you
who never heard my voice in life
deafened by half a new life, half a world later
shrouded in the clang of industry
the puce shape of a sound on lips
your books, the sherry the light you read by

Now I follow the trickles
of your life
when, at the gates of war,
you left all that was left to you
taxi door wide open,
your survival meant
I can eat here of my fill of choice
and decipher through the rounded
windows of narrative, and love
panes crazed with distance
on which truth distills and condenses
I’m tapping those tales thirdhand
like liqueur from old birch, or longing,
which all runs together
with what I have left of you
enough to cellar your story.



2 comments on “NaPoWriMo • 14 April • Spalancata / Wide Open

  1. Yvonne Louis
    April 15, 2014

    Loved this poem Ali. Beautiful.

Tell me wotcha reckon

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This entry was posted on April 15, 2014 by in Inglese, Italiano, NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month 2014 and tagged , , , , , , , , , .
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