Fog in the forest

In a forest with no shadows,
next to a house without windows,
sits an old woman without eyes,
caressing with a hand without nails,
a child without hair.

[italian version]

Into the deep surface

Over a forest made of one-dimensional trees,

next to the crackling of the exterminated plains of metal,

rising, from the horizon, rectangular clusters of liquid, boiling light,

silhouetting against a sky of beating, pale meat,

source and outfall of the rivers of digital blood,

through the human mountains that surround everything.

[italian version]

The beauty of death

Virgins in white robes
along the parched paths of the dying lands
as necklaces of incandescent petals
smiling to flames protected by small, candid hands
at the dusk of a day just more cold
through the extinct branches of ancient, bony trees
witnesses of the millennial defeats
and of the long summer of chagrin
to the temple buried in the shadow of the forest
whose terrible secret
is silent suffocated by ivy and by moss
to don’t disturb the sleep of the dead
to celebrate the beauty of death.

[italian version]