Tyger Tyger

Tyger Tyger

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or ...

continue... 17 November 2010 // Art, Poetry


We intend to sing the love of danger, the habit of energy and fearlessness.
Courage, audacity, and revolt will be essential elements of our poetry.

continue... 12 November 2010 // Art, Poetry

Lipiu Revisited

Silence is the language of Lipiu


As with love
poems are born
in silence
only that unfeeling silence
has a habit
of giving birth
and swallowing its young.

In Lipiu you study silence
as if it were a foreign language
if you practice enough
you can tell the dialect
of day from the heavy accent
of night.
You learn the birds by heart
and the light that alters
the ...

continue... 28 October 2010 // Poetry



Poems fail
when loves fail
Don't listen to what they say:
a poem needs love's heat
to survive
cold time...

I’ve invented a place
to go when I am deeply sad,
sad to the unmelting ice inside me,
sad to the crystallized tears,
when the regrets start, small white panther cubs
that nip and their bites sting.
Lipiu is what I call the place I've invented
to go ...

continue... 11 October 2010 // Poetry

Are we not but Lambs of God?

There is no space wider than that of grief, there is no universe like that which bleeds.
continue... 01 October 2010 // Poetry

The word in blood, the word grew in the dark body…

It was born
in blood, the word
grew in the dark body, beating
and flew through the lips and the mouth.
Further, and nearer
still, still it came
from dead fathers, nomadic races,
from lands made of stone,
that were tired of their wretched tribes,
because when pain set out on the way
the villages walked and arrived
and new earth and water joined again
to sow their words anew.

continue... 13 September 2010 // Poetry

The Quiet World

In an effort to get people to look
into each other’s eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I ...

continue... 10 September 2010 // Poetry

Towards the Splendid City, Pablo Neruda’s Nobel Lecture, Part II

Ladies and Gentlemen,

I did not learn from books any recipe for writing a poem, and I, in my turn, will avoid giving any advice on mode or style which might give the new poets even a drop of supposed insight. When I am recounting in this speech something about past events, when reliving on this occasion a never-forgotten occurrence, in this place which is so different from what that ...

continue... 22 August 2010 // Literature, Poetry