by Salvatore Difalco
Schizoid
Boy I set self
grasped me light hand
all day led me
to contemplate friendship.
Little light little sad me
instrumentalist artful diverse-full
effect each employed & rose
I said “Word out, we do out It.”
And added, “Repaired.”
“Then we’ve no hands,” It replied.
Silver Lining
Buried
skeletal dust. Placed motionless
helpless, above earth’s
mute gaze stands a sole guardian
of filigreed black cut
of lost sleek glance.
Units tremble glazed
motionless lips
depths free-flow
fully urn-necked.
Circle light flamed, hand-light beam
hits clasp grown cold.
Breast units visibly impaled
earth purpled in concealing light
diminished image exalted
ineffable points that tower us
in tremulous radiance.
Translucent green fields
of bleak realms, golden world
of super flat
of granted transparent state
of hand-light touch
of angelic faces smiling
of unbearable baseness
in manic eye of shook mind.
Infinite fires create a mind light white & harmonious,
a spirit-secret sea delight
that swims & plays Ocean
discordant
yet striking ear paradise
in the human breach of high dream—
frail dust, kindle-sparked
as a black cloud crowds us.
Orcus In Bomarzo
As I night
moon descends
silvery water fields
wee breeze sighs
distant soughs
a thousand vague deceptive shades
among tranquil waves—
branches, hedges, hills & villages
lost sky’s end
behind or endless sets
dim world
scatters
gloom darkens valley
night remains all charter road salutes
a song’s last gleam
of wan light on leading.
Then melts away
leaves transparent state
all distant flags translucent green
husks swelling less & less.
Life remains dark-uncertain
eyes strained blind in vain
find road heading to a wretched life
too many black boughs
allowed to last hand
sentences all creatures death too mild
half-life worthy of worst evils
we fire-quench fountains, plea they run dry
pain grows, good will returns.
Hills, shores, the glory west
silvery veil night lidded
widowed long east sky
whiten anew dawn will rise
sun will quick follow
shine out powerful rays
flood infernal realms with torrents of light
shadowed life will brighten—
new light, new dawn frames the, “It will.”
Spillway
1
Fragrant deserts
arid slopes destroyed
or not, flowers adorn a scatter.
I’ve seen empty places, stems
circling the City
silent aspiring witnesses
reminding the passers of light
of lost empires,
electric spheres that lit the world
with faithless hostility.
These fields barren ash
solid trash
resound underfoot
as we snake & twist familiar.
2
Golden corn mirrors
low cattle garden places,
retreating powerful torrents
& fiery mouths all in ruin.
We root gentle flowers,
commiserate loss, send
a perfume-fragranced ram
desert praise on existing visits—
these slopes fully denatured
light-flamed green they estimate.
Harsh nurse-lights move the units,
obliterate part hands we fear
it is a little less gentle than depicted.
By Day, By Night
A generous soul
of meagre powers, weak limbs
doesn’t boast a call
too strong for rich possessions,
doesn’t fool
the splendid living
figures among the big dolls
or allow reappearances,
say, openly gives.
I don’t consider the man
creature stupid born or
nurtured on pain. He says
joy filled his young pages.
Stench of pride promises
an exalted destiny on earth,
a new happiness-dream
much less a world where
a people surging wave
a breath of malignant air,
or a subterranean tremor
utterly rare. Please leave voice …