Liberatore Suffoletta

Liberatore Suffoletta Poems

Liberatore Suffoletta Biography

There came into the world a son one day in L’Aquila, Abruzzi. It was summer, the new hovels resembling sugarbread hives were empty. As in fairy tales the sky was the colour of hunger. Empty. Pigsties with no pigs, in the middle of gardens with no vegetables, of fields without earth, alongside dry banks. Tilled by the moon, the fields. The weeds had grown through mouths of skeletons. The Ionian wind beat the blackened cafone faces as in prophetic dreams: and the famine coloured moon tilled fields that no summer had ever loved. It was in the time of the son that much love might be born, but it was not to be. The son had eyes of new grass, fearless eyes, that saw all that was: nothing of agriculture, of land reform, of trade union struggles, of National Aid Programs, yet-he had those eyes. Each dark peasant everyone, had abandoned his new hovel like a pigsty with no pigs, in clearings the color of hunger at the foot of rotund hills within view of the prophetic Ionian Wind.)

The Best Poem Of Liberatore Suffoletta

Some Unanswered Questions

If all raindrops are sweet, where do the rivers buy the salt for the ocean?
Leaves, clouds, thoughts move,
by same agreements.
Why does everything become still
when our mouths open?

Which millenniums are best for conceiving stars?
And for how many infinities are the birth stars needed?
Why do we say a new star or galaxy is discovered rather than born?
And why didn’t Einstein just say light bends when it’s tired just like him?
Why do people and trees conceal the beauty of their roots?
How many churches are there in hell for child molesting priest to say mass in? Which Popes must attend the services?
Do clouds become happier after crying so much?
Do rabbits who are late for school have to clean the blackboards and erasers?
Is there anything sillier in life than to be called liberatore?
Does the cloud maker still live in Tibet?
Where do dropout fishes go if they fail swim school?
Where do rainbows hide from a jealous sun?
Do the people who live in your dreams dwell in your shoes when you awaken?
How much faster can stallions race on the moon?
Where was it that you found me that I lost myself?
Do all the memories of the poor huddle together while a jewel box looks after the dreams of the wealthy?
Why don’t our armies make honey, our air force carry birds north and south and our navies sail the seven seas searching for Atlantis?
Where do bees hide their honey from the blind?
If our thoughts run out,
How do we make an idea?
Is it true our desires must be watered by desire?
Is the sky getting ready to commit suicide because it is so blue?
Who made all the holes in nights black hat?
Does sadness create small ponds that we swim in or does it remain invisible until we spill tears?
Why do professors teach and politicians practice the geography of death?
Has love ever deceived you with kisses that didn’t blossom?
Why do the sea gulls ask me the same riddles I ask them?
And why do they dip and soar with so much wasted energy?
Are they forever sentenced to repeating their vows to the sky?
Where did all the leaves buy their yellow clothes to commit suicide in?


The only true thoughts are those which do not grasp their own meaning. Adorno from Minima Moralia

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