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irinia Jun 2023
When you dream you are an author but you do not know how it will end.
Cesare Pavese

a broken view the horizon
careless the blood chronicles
you can see me through the prism
of your yearnings
a lost god has forgotten your name
I'm waiting now and then wordless
for the Renaissance of desire
irinia Jun 2023
silence falls over me from above
the sea songs in my hair wait for an allusion
my hips are shelter for the dance of blue shades
love is this imprecise semiosis even when
you go into specifics about its wavelengths
the splitting time of atoms,
its intensity, radiation and schedule

my steps leave no trace, my hands have no voice in your deja vu
a semiotic thing your imaginary body
there is no point in living only in one dimension
an unknowable god takes snapshots from our deeper minds while
love is just this superimposed image falling from above, turning into the sea
  Jun 2023 irinia
Nat Lipstadt
Leave if You Can II


I live in the house of poetry.
I ascend her stairs slowly
and leap back down.
I sit in the chair of poetry,
sleep in her bed, eat from her plate.
Poetry has windows
through which mornings and afternoons
fall, and how well she suspends a teardrop
how well she blows until I tumble / With this
I mean to say that
one basket brings
both wounds and bandages.  
I love poetry so much that sometimes I think
I don’t love her / She looks at me,
inclines her head and keeps knitting
poetry.
As always, I’ll be the bigger person.
But how to say it / How to tell her
I want to leave / honestly I want to
fry my asparagus…
I see her coming near
with her bottle of oil
and crazed skillet.
I see her,
her little bundle of asparagus
slipping out her sleeve.
Ah her freshness / her chaotic glint
and the way she approaches with relentless meter.  
I surrender / I surrender always because I live
in the house of poetry / because I ascend
the stairs of poetry
and also because
I come back down.

    — Translated by Lisa Allen Ortiz & Sara Daniele Rivera
Rossella Di Paolo

Rossella Di Paolo was born in Lima, Peru in 1960. She studied literature at the Pontifical Catholic University of Peru. She made her first publications in the student literary magazine Calandria, and worked as a journalist for several years for the alternative current affairs magazine La Tortuga. Her books include Prueba de Galera (1985 and 2017), Continuidad de Los Cuadros (1988 and 2018), Raised skin (1993 and 2019), Tablets of San Lázaro (2001 and 2020), and The chair in the sea (2016), which received the Lights of the Readers Award for the El Comercio Best Book of Poetry of 2016. In 2020, she won the Casa de la Literatura Peruana Prize and was distinguished as a Personalidad Meritoria de la Cultura (Admirable Cultural Personality) by the Peruvian Ministry of Culture.

She is a university professor and directs poetry workshops. Her poems have appeared in anthologies of Peruvian and Latin American poetry. She takes part in exhibitions of poetry, painting, and photography, and edits multidisciplinary editions of poetry.
irinia Jun 2023
when I am silent I become the absence of silence
I'm thinkig your body, I'm sensing your mind
my hands rehearse the circle theory,
the openings of the horizon hiding in plain sight
time plus time is a world without hyperbole,
but the courage of enchantment
even the fields dream about the all in one
cause it's poppies time and panta rhei
irinia Jun 2023
the quest for meaning, the passsage of time, my hunger for you while I keep myself composed, dream days and reparation, tears of intense wonder, never mind the order cause life is a verb. So many different mirrors of the same passion we were handed over in the hallucination of hours, in the mist of nights, in the depths of cups & palms, or of unborn words.
irinia May 2023
far away seems so close in your eyes
and you push your blood away to
feed the wind or some whispers
unimaginable to the full
my torrid eyes see the sky full of scars
sometimes when
the moon is full of boom
all I feel is you
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