current mood.

Speechless travelers!

What wise wisdom we soak from your depths of experience!

You open the skies for us as we marvel in your no filter destinations.
You show us what it means to live as our eyes gleam with your tagged endorsements.
I have some dollars for travel, but not with sails and propulsion.

We are grateful you open the doors of your tales to our mundane being in these prisons.
Stars and skies have not looked the same since.

In fact, you’ve never seen them, have you?

Speak up, what have you actually seen?!

Oh wait..

a poetic vapour

my solitude increases
as the barriers to enter
the rest of the world rise.

at last!

it’s late and only the music
of a numb voice screeches on.
I sit down firmly, in silence
my nerves kiss my toes and fingertips.
for few hours, I’ll exist
without a face
in a bath of waves.
everything around me, becomes me
just to live in these words.
how it is, becomes irrelevant.
what it is, at this moment
is what there is.
my memories can only chase shadows.

discontented, I drink another glass
and look for refunds.
I would gladly accept a new manuscript
and ease under the sheets
in the whispering silence of the dark.

an attempt at a good verse
an attempt to separate myself
from those whom I despise.

a poetic vapour.

at last.

strange smiles.

busy life flashes by
blurred people on the sidewalks
dazzling, blinding, in the sun
almost an unfamiliar setting.

brisk walkers, ice creams
in hand. arms across each other’s
necks. hands holding up
phones, focus on what’s
relevant. specks of colors –
alive, loving, and desolate.

the city breathes in its
own painting
as I jump on the next
stroke and catch
some of its leftover paint.

I keep walking
taking joy
in unapproved glances
and strange smiles.

yes, you can call it anything you want.

i am a cause of dusk
waking up as it all
settles, in the dark.

there is no feeling
in the colors of the sky
it is as is.

but it isn’t the same
between the lines we write
my being feels strange.
i dream without seeing
the dreams that i have.

it engulfs me.

bianca and rosso
become the small talk
as we move our glasses
closer, and closer.
i’m filled up to the brim
the sensation in my spine
has gone past
the threshold
for normal, long ago.

we’re sober
and our clothes hit the floor
in the night that remains.

there’s a rose on my table.

I shall not touch you.

you somehow makes
an empty bottle
reminiscence about its glorious nights.

in the mix of lights
you emit your own
while making sure
not all escape in the world
around you.

your leaves breathe
as you stay still
your tilted head
reaching for my eyes.

I shall not touch you.

even when your warm color
invite me to dive deep
in the curiosity of an infant.

and how I love you.

I see more and more
of you, in the
quiet midnight.
you shimmer wildly
on my leftover night

with an empty bottle
of lambrusco, holding you
as the centerpiece of my poem.

a fisherman.

as I walked back home
I saw an image –
a fisherman
without a fish.

I looked around at the faces.
long faces, trying
to remember
calendars
and bus routes
and doctor appointments
and algorithms.

– a silent man, and melancholy –
He was all
that we could wish.

pine street.

At the stoplight waiting for the light
hand upon hand
san francisco nine a.m.
we witness the rushed streets
coming to life
bright yellow garbage trucks
with garbagemen in fluorescent blazers
an elegant mercedes
with an elegant couple
remote controlled skateboards
and hip backpacks.

Across the whole world
in the ocean
of this democracy
I stand with you
and the red light for an instant
holding us all close together
in a gravitational composition.
I look at you
as if anything at all is possible.

how many people.

I wonder how many people
in this city
live on the streets.
late at night
when silence blossoms like tumor on our lips
when even the crickets hesitate
I walk among the shadows
of their past and present.
every face on the sidewalk
looks back at me.
blank stares.
cautious hands.
tired hearts.
and oblivious souls.

I wonder how many people
will come back home
and write this down.

night swimming.

the changing light of the city
whispers to me
as it slowly takes over
the floating land of daydreams,
night swimming into its
foggy arms.

it hides the getaways
and concrete hills
giving way to my reflection
and like yours, it only surfaces up
when my daydreams become
just that, and I,
a fraction of what
my reflection wishes it was.

my thoughts sweep the bay
with the changing light.
a collective existence,
a forceful choice,
all drifting anchorless upon the ocean.

sea glass.

on this sea glass morning
I lay on your sand
by your side.
the heat breathes subtly
carried by the wind
bouncing off my back.
your every wave
reaching the shore
brings me back the memories
of the lost and worshipped
that now fly through your waters.

my eyes dwell
in the lullabies you sing
and slowly start to dream
with you, of you.

what do the ghosts
that you carry read to you
at night?
it all just dissolves
in your vast existence
and settles down at the bottom
of your feet.
the bottom that
sooner or later
will find it’s way to
where I lay.

the more you reach out
to me, the more
I fall for you.