Temperamental despair

The sun might as well

have never went down

it’s upsetting

that the sun’s still setting

we need the rain

to cry with again

it might as well

never come back up

take me somewhere

I’ll forget the sun’s still shining.



Unknown sunny day

Overcoming the horizon

The knowledge that I’ll be back

renders the place –

to her, a furthering memory –

a promising fantasy,

as endearing to me

as the embracing heat,

when I forget it never lasts,

just as what’s more present

in absence.

And yet I seek to rid myself of it,

admiring instead

the sun’s descent

as it heads towards

the delicately carved waves

in the harshness below me.


Yet, the horizon,

to me, a limitless invitation,

is, to her, the sign

of yet another day’s expiry.




Compressed communication

The truth has to be begged for

by sorry sensibility

because perpetrators

are pained by the damage

of their intentions.

Maybe if I stay here

I’ll travel seas and days and quests

without pestering my conscious

and if I stop fearing,

I’ll be granted a fixed place

within this landscape

with which I’ll finally become one

like cement.

But I fear

in order to remain undone,

free from inclusion and belonging,

belonging therefore nowhere

and to none

as to never have to stay.

So, I beg of you,

please tell me why,

so I can embark on a new maybe,

free from the benefit

of your collateral illusion.


SJL 11/06/21

Oblio sicuro

Allontanati da qui,

dove i squali

manco ti annusano,

ma è il tempo la preda,

che si nasconde

dietro il ritmo matematico

della luna e il sole

senza invecchiarli mai.

Non si fanno capire, né stancare

d’essere costretti di convivere a parte

dal lontano infinto dello spazio

sacrificandosi per salvarci, scaldarci e raffredarci

sempre soli

nel loro presente.

Noi, incapaci d’imitare

i loro calcoli immacolati,

ci addormentiamo sopra,

evitando sempre

l’oscurità pericolosa

della conoscenza assoluta.


SJL 17/05/2021


Stuck in the collective past,

she longs for what passed her by,

for what she ran away from,

she looks for in the future-torn past,


excluded from the inertia of loneliness,

mastered, organised, systematic

loneliness, developed

through the prosperity of the nation,

fabricated to the utmost convenience,

time-, money-, energy-, life-saving,

luxurious loneliness, developed

through the austerity of the nation


stuck in the collective past,

she withers, the last reminder of our

mortality, spent beyond extinction,

while intimidatingly she’s alive

and cries through dry eyes

for anything but our perfected lies.