Degunometro Poem by fabio vicentini

now that the window opens again,

after months of agony in brine,

on the sky brewed musk,

the guardians of the desk

and the man at his toil, have gathered

the night's flying ear down to the ground

in a flurried volume of living thoughts

which opposite poles sprouted the contort

helm of excitable seas,

on the led of its trances,

and the whiskeral parables

that embrace light as it crumbles

on the suspended gold of their solid

anemone.

They connect with the void

that all with all to transparence perfects

and transform into dance the blended scents,

in blossoms

simply lost,

and the sounds that fall to be forgotten,

between the stones beating on rooftops an

urgent withdrawal,

then renewal,

of the leaps under the pendulum

scanning the silence's ultimatum,

and nothingness to itself would preserve

its potential were it not for the sphere

of delight that animates their spine

as vertebras gear and flint the line

that thunders the birth of the elements

i, n the beaded heliotrope whose plume bends

towards thoughts and their refraction,

the informing constellation

folding on ethereal fingers

rugged geometries rose to fringe

their intimate heart bellow jaded smiles

the eye divines on its palm similes..