Pina Piccolo
(in praise of the riots in winter)
The whiff of calicanto
That sudden you invest
The face cut by the wind
T'inebria melts and you
Winter
months before the crocus
Buchi land
numb
Langue body
The vein
throbbing
of spring
How loose cannon
expert eye,
Unexpected
Intense rises
Scent of
Change
The squares purified
From the ashes of slain
Wonder
feet of clay
landslides
From tide
branches calicanto
Flower suddenly
on apparent
Examination gray
Humble calicanto
What everyone forgets
In the chill of the mind
Winter
pale yellowness
That flame
Become et'accende.
(February 5, 2011)
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