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Impetus of sinners
My eyes were not able to stare, actions delayed or seized
a kissed bit of neck, a response's lift, a caress long missed
Almost of a perjurer of my prime, odd self, a painter's easel,
a cross birth of desires - a fence of abandonment, a drizzle
of sea foam or tears! Of even moments, my senses surround
you, the same void remains, not to fulfill, a fortress abound...
Sea gulls weighing their flights above, lift high, a move on
and then become of air, uprising of senses, far of horizon...
Dusk! Kind of a glassy gray, the sky! Your breathing nimble,
all of another way subtle. Silences, adorned, at times feeble.
settled, tangible! All your internal spirits, one even touch...
You hushed! Was it a domain of yours? Or more to match?
Watching up high, as if you were an airy, rare adornment
or conquered in a sovereign domus of odd abandonment
of altered dimensions, a whiff of the eight winds, a probation
for accessible worlds, an even, caressed, grasped dimension.
You grasped the rock, edge of a shore, your eyes a libation,
flight of a not evident orbit, a compass' pathos, a liberation;
a cross, golden around your neck, a bless, of amable weavers
entangled! Bugles of soul, no logic of sorts, impetus of sinners.
poem
by
Giorgio Veneto
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