Everybody Cut Loose: by Brad Frederiksen

“He looks back for a moment. Looks down at his hand, surprised to see flowers as he was expecting scissors dripping blood.” (Paul Squires: Samba Libretto (excerpt #1))

Mintie wrap rippers and ‘tin-foil loopers’
Tea ceremonies and white goosefoot skewers
Skirmishing bloggers all tied up in tribes
Tripping all over their juvenile jibes

Astronomer women, astronomer men,
Tweet of imbalance within their profession
My timeline streams astronomical scribes
Tripping all over their juvenile jibes

Meanwhile Harvey and Gina and Clive
Are copping ad-hominem crap and cream pies
In the face; Morrison, Abbott and Pyne
Tripping all over their juvenile jibes

Since you’re asking
Since the crow flies
Since I don’t proscribe
I simply remember my left from my right
And I don’t oversubscribe.

“Please, Louise, pull me offa my knees” (Kenny Loggins: Footloose)

This work by Brad Frederiksen is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 Australia License.

to find more work by Brad Frederiksen on this blog, click HERE.

To read more work by Brad Frederiksen, click HERE.

Cosa può un attimo: di Giacomo Gusmeroli

Cosa può un attimo

(a Gervasio, Daniele, Dario, Giacomo, Giuliano)

Quel giorno e in quel giorno
soltanto avrei voluto volare. Da bambino.
Nel vuoto di uno strapiombo sotto

le fontane al Vàak dél Valgél*.
Durò un baleno. La seduzione della libertà
con un piccolo slancio del corpo,

l’invito nel vortice della voragine
ampia e sconcertante, e quel senso
angosciato di cosa può un attimo. E poi

come rientrato immaginai la vita
dentro un vento che trascina
via per spazi nuovi, e nel suo meglio

la terra depose sui miei nudi piedi

una goccia di ruscello

a tramontana.

Vàak: luogo esposto a tramontana
Valgél: ruscello che si forma in un leggero avvallamento
durante le piogge abbondanti

Trovate QUI più informazioni su Giacomo Gusmeroli, incluso il suo ultimo libro LA BILANCIA IN EQUILIBRIO

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An English translation of this poem can be found below:

What could in an instant

(to Gervasio, Daniele, Dario, Giacomo, Giuliano)………………………………..

That day and in that day
only, I wanted to fly. As a child.
Into the blank void of a descent [below]

below the fountains at Vàak dél Valgél*.
It lasted a heartbeat. the seduction of freedom
with the slightest surge of the body,

the invitation into the wide, bewildering
vortex of the ravine, and that agonized
sense of what could in an instant. Then

reentering, imagining life
within the wind pulling away
into new spaces, and at it’s best

the earth laid upon my bare feet

a drop from the stream

of the north wind.

Vàak: an area exposed to the north wind
Valgél: a  creek that forms in a  slight depression
during heavy rains

(translated by Bonnie McClellan)

for more poems by Giacomo Gusmeroli on this blog, click HERE.


D’anonymes formes floues s’enlacent dans la tendresse du pont d’un souffle clair et limpide. D’immobiles sarments de cachemire pourpre enrubannent des ébats incolores, spiralant des ellipses de chaleur oxydée, redéfinissant les contours de galaxies encrées dans le serein. Une aurore humide perle sur le contour des lèvres du temps, des monceaux de caresses ourlent les abords de l’infini, la ruralité nomade dévergonde les urbanités mercantiles. Corolle qui s’épanouit en fleur d’obsidienne dévitrifiée, une orchidée soupirante émerge de la poussière, ébroue son cristal de fraîcheur dans une inondation de pollen souverain et entonne son chant de murmure insomniaque pendant que l’amour formule une nouvelle fois la recette intangible du plaisir.



Anonymous fluid forms entwine within the tender bridge of a crystal clear sigh. Still vines of purple cashmere beribbon the colorless rhythms, ellipses of oxidized heat spiral, redefining the contours of inky galaxies within the serenity. A humid dawn pearls on the curve of time’s lips, mounds of caresses hem the edge of infinity, nomadic rurality debauches mercantile urbanity. Corollas spread out in flowering of obsidian un-glassed, a sighing orchid emerges from the dust, shakes off crystal freshness in an inundation of sovereign pollen and bursts into her murmuring insomniac song while love formulates once again the intangible recipe of pleasure.

To read more work by GMC, click HERE.
To find other poems by GMC on this blog click HERE.

Tous les Matins du Monde: by Liliane Richman

The day is dense humid and gray
everything else black and green
touched with a sheen

The stark trunks the branches the leaves

bustle of people honking of automobiles
children bursting out
of Dealy Elementary
flaming with cool energy
Girls on the verge of teen hood

holding an upturned umbrella
struggling with the wind
Boisterous boys their swagger
fresh as Vienna choir boys
The sumptuous life force brings me back to you
I slip in easily
as we do



Copyright 2013 Liliane Richman, all rights reserved
To find more poems by Liliane Richman, click HERE.

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