I walk in darkness.
In a cave surrounded by black crystals.
The deeper I go. The darker it gets;
The less visible that light behind me becomes.

It's colder now.
The crows have started to sing.
The vampires are coming out of the shadows.
Im in the eye of the storm.

I can hear the waves.
I can see the crescent moon behind the clouds.
There is a light at the end of the cave.
And beneath me, a cliff held up by titans.

I want to go for a swim.
Just jump in.
Swim away with the current.
Go on...do it!

Break the stanza,
Taint the poems.
Burn the letters and jump;

Besieging the circle of an above-ground fort for its light
The cold, sharp wave storms the lighthouse
Robust turret of stones in the middle of nowhere
Off La Rochelle or Le Finistère

And she, agitated, is indeed seavage!

Quietly approaching the canoe on sand
Hope of coconuts, hammocks in palm trees
This tropical land would come from a fable
Mix of lava and water, the Piton has risen!

And she, struck, flies in white vapors!

Reducing the life of country smugglers
She is often tombs of ill-fated Ulysses
How far away she seems, then, the boot of Italy,
For those who have left everything, dreaming of being born there!

And this crossing does not offer a visa!

Stifling pitifully under floating *******
The gray sea without corals is emptied of its life
Only the abyssal fish do not see how
On the surface, belugas find the time long!

And she, once a sanctuary, became compost!

Inspiring, from the foam, the writings of the poet,
Sea, Ocean Blue, Aegean and beautiful Seychelles,
Because without it, our life would have been so thin
In our inner worlds, its flow always calls back!

And she, stained, becomes crystalline again!

See in these painting our vital element
Exhausted, neglected by our great laziness
For it to be paradise and not only distress
Let's save the coastline, fragile like an opal!

Translated on November 2019
Nancy

Keep your back straight
when walking in the rain.
You'll have a better view
of the frightened rats
who scurry for the salvation
you've already found
within yourself.

–Ron Gavalik

Flower on the bank;
there was forgiveness for all,
but the River Rose.

i’ve dedicated my life
to doing penance
for sins i did not commit.
whose ledger is it
that i am trying to wipe clean?
i toil with desperation, as if on trial,
fruitlessly trying to prove myself
to judge, jury, executioner
that not even i know.
which laws did i break
in the checkered past only i see?
the glass shows a liar and a cheat
an adulterer, a glutton
a sloth, a jealous beast
they all stare back at me
as i try to exonerate them.
they all look like her
and she calls out to me but i cannot hear
she is muffled beneath their cries of innocence.
i shackle myself in their stead
and pay the debts of demons i never knew.