hectars of letters

jump from the stomach
to the voice
that mood
chameleonic mood
typical of sleep-walkers
in the dark
and during the day
when they want to wake up
they sleep
you sleep
you want to sleep
but the iron
of the backrest wrought-iron
thrown to crush the bed
rumble on the iron wall
and bricks and limes
and clattering
a coloured concrete
Some say the blue realxes the sight
like the sky
it should work on everybody’s eyes
your eyes
your bright eyes
Can you see it?
Can you see me?
Can you see your self?
Somebody perhaps
Perhaps somebody could be able to respond
and should do it as fast as one can, if it necessary
for a case in which
words are not used
to cheat
the foked tongue
it breaks the spear
of all the warriors-eel
of all the lakes of fishermen’s warriors-eel
and the hunger
in a world who intimidates
the world
Do you buy food?
How many times do you shop?
per day?
how many times do you fill
a little bit your cart?
per day?
during the day?.
If only the supermarket could be open by night too
the sleep-walkers would have nothing to worry about
Have you ever thought of the loader
of the Parmigiano Reggiano?
he smell like cheese
him too
and eventualy
he also will be eaten by Topo Gigio
Do you remember Topo Gigio?
I can remember his voice
seems he had a fever
and then a cold
and then the fever and the cold together.
Do you want to dance? Don’t you?
I always want to dance
Always, I will always dance
just as I will always write
with hectare of letters like today
hectars of letters like these:
hectars of letters.
Today just like yesterday
like when it was yesterday
a minute ago
hectars and hectars of letters.

translation by Einav Zoren and Flavia Montecchi