I would be like the flowers


I would be like the flowers

on the farmer’s lawn, up

for anything – death, as if

it were nothing. There is


no pain that can’t be borne,

understood, but your suffering

falls for good; a swift blade

in the field.



I would be like the seeds

carried on the breeze of wings,

birds that fled

suburban trees.



My love is repressed, and like my love I have repressed

my hatred. Alone at this time the light falls on you.

My tank is small, quick to fill. Call it incontinence

if you will, but lie you still, squirm. I am disturbed

by it all, but boy! will I burst my load on you!

3 Responsesso far.

  1. Mark Prisco Mark Prisco says:

    thanks very much, Pietro. you too? Well, me sometimes

  2. peterlebaige peterlebaige says:

    And that ‘repression’ of love and of hate is well-admitted! This reader suffers from the same error!

  3. peterlebaige peterlebaige says:

    What sound meditations on the heads of flowers, Marco, and that mower blade. The final stanza ends with a flourish!!

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