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Sheep in the fog

Sheep in the fog

The hills step off into whitness
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them

The train leaves a line of breath
O slow
Horse the colour of rust

Hooves, dolorous bells -
All morning the
Morning has been blackening.

A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.

They threaten
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.

Pecorella nella nebbia

Hills intrude into whiteness. People or stars

look at me with sadness, disappoint.

The train leaves a line of breath. O slow Horse

rust color,

Clogs, painful bells -
All morning the Morning has gone
blackened. A flower

neglected.
My bones rest, the fields
Far I melt the heart.


threaten to recruit up to a sky without stars
no father, dark water.


Sylvia Plath, Lady Lazarus in and Other Poems, Mondadori, Milano 1998, € 7, 80.

(instead of the canvas is Rothko, Black and Grey)

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Torsade

"The truth is that the scientific way of looking at a fact not is how to look like a miracle. "

L. Wittgenstein

are in the arcades, with the shopping bag in his right hand, a nuisance. And there is a January intrusive, vulgar, they force you cold in a speech at a shelter. The trajectory of a game anyone have the right or left, that look a spit of thirty centimeters, that before drying increases the cold. But this is the time when my day as a half-plane. Between six and seven is the paralysis that look. Today, unawares, catches me in the street. I go out from the arches, fifty yards from the house, the legs are the first sign of the event. As hot water, which is open from the inside, rises to the head. The head falls, relies on a few muscles. And it's like it would break his neck, as we opened the neck Polyphemus eye, wide, a synesthesia, in which the view is mixed to the air, more space. The tear is a contrazione della metamorfosi, il suono che avverte che ora il cielo cade nel collo. Gli occhi normali si vergognano. Un po’ di sangue, prima che cicatrizzi sporca la nuova retina-trachea, nutre un immagine di cielo, la realizza.

(Questo scrivevo lo scorso Gennaio...)