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Scared heart
Sacred heart
Scorched



Landscape and box

I was walking on a track of mind, angry about a darkening white.
A rug crossed the sky and since then, never a cloud cried.
There is a mountain in my past.
As it stands there full of ice, juice is flowing from a pen, then I can see a desk
followed by me. Places are calling to be written.
I look outside the window:
Gordon is jogging around a tree.
Color green is creating an earthly story casting a new French Land with the Lord eating a nut on a bench or a nice chair.
At this point I couldn’t afford the text; I was fragile and needed a rest.




Tufnell Park

Tufnell Park is stuck in fur
Even the Temple sticks.
‘Great!’ says Archway
‘no windows to trim’.
Sea 2006


We don’t get on

The sea is everywhere today. I’ve seen it chasing birds flying north and pushing against shop windows. It touches London and it reaches my feet as I lay in bed in Tufnell Park road. This sea covers mountains, cities and desert lands; how many times have I told you I don’t need to be there to see the sun splitting into millions of dots flashing on the waves.

I am back

I turn towards the sun; my eyes change into tiny keyholes. The light is too far bright. A strange smile is painted on my face. I project an instant image of myself into your eyes but it gets reflected by your sunglasses. Improvising  with a serene afternoon I deal with a stormy inside. Weather is good as always; I swim in the sweet air and loose myself in the beauty of nature. It’s nice to be back.

What’s up

It’s cold and windy just like you say. It’s gray…
Now it has all changed; a landscape full of green hills and kites develops around me

Memories

One two three
suitcases waiting to be opened in new places

Holidays

Sweet dreams
I’m not taking you with me

Sailing boats

I gave you a notebook with the sea printed on it.