The hermeticism of these short compositions is witness to instantaneous gesture, to immediate thought; the ultimate expression of the synthesis of sensation, where inner and outer universe coincide to the point of getting lost in the snapshot of the image.
The haiku, eidolon of the feeling, is an overview, a picture of a section of reality which is transfigured and permeated by the feeling itself.
Poetry is everywhere, it does not need to be created, it can be found in any situation: it can be selected in the flow of being just by being able to seize It.
Even if it is brief, concise and brother to the image, the haiku is a text and therefore participates with its failing nature in the expression of what is invisible and imagined.
The true key to its understanding is multiple interpretation and its true meaning can only be grasped in the suspension that it creates.
Poetry is the air that creeps through the feathers in a beating of wings; not the beating of wings.
In the line-spacing between verses, in that space between lines, there is its “potential being” that enigmatically lets the meaning be shaped at the discretion of those who welcome it and the verses are but the body, the wrapper of the spirit that hovers there.
Verses are codes to be interpreted, symbols that change depending on who touches them, liquid crystals, fluctuating substances, liquid is their essence as opposed to that of Poetry, which is volatile. No reading is similar or the same as the previous one because a human being changes by virtue of his/her own life.
Catching the “potential being” of Poetry certainly leads to a kind of extrasensory knowledge.
What generates levitation of the mind is the detachment from the artistic wrapping, the support, the medium.
What by Nature is divine can only express itself in multiple ways, or in no one in particular.
Sono le due,
fuori
piove, la mia anima
resuscita rose bianche
It is two o’clock
It’s raining outside, my soul resurrects
White roses
Sono le due,
fuori
piove, la mia anima
resuscita rose bianche
It is two o’clock
It’s raining outside, my soul resurrects
White roses
Disgregazione temporale
la vecchia casa
è di pietre solide
Time Disintegration
The old house
is made of solid stones
“Carmina in Spiritum” is the result of a period particularly inspired by precise and profound astral conjunctions that determined the compositions in a praxis that I would dare to define mystical. The cosmic and absolute dimension of the texts, which goes to the limit of invocation to self-annihilation, consists of a series of carmina (chants, hymns) dedicated to the elements or spirits that hold the main inner forces holding the spirit and preserving it in the its strength and integritas.
The hermeticism of these short compositions is witness to instantaneous gesture, to immediate thought; the ultimate expression of the synthesis of sensation, where inner and outer universe coincide to the point of getting lost in the snapshot of the image. The haiku, eidolon of the feeling, is an overview, a picture of a section of reality which is transfigured and permeated by the feeling itself.
This collection of poems contains those compositions which occurred in a particular state of mystical-revealing ecstasy. While “Carmina in Spiritum” are poems written in a state of possession (enthusiasmòs); in this case they are mostly poems created thanks to a moment of instant revelation, comparable to divine shock, instantaneous, faster, more mental and controlled. These poems sealed illuminating moments of sudden change, of brainwave.
In the “Red Section” are collected those compositions that exude a certain passion that often emerges from our more human side.These are therefore old compositions that have given way to more measured and conscious compositions. However, since the human soul often falls into its chaotic and Dionysian side, I cannot say that this section is only part of past compositions, it remains a section open to any moods that are part of me and therefore sometimes ask to be expressed.
The white section contains poems born from moments of extreme psycho-physical suffering. These are poems where disease and the sense of imminent death prevail, expressed through landscapes of the soul in extreme paralysis in the face of the stagnation of vital energies. What prevails is the discomfort that nothing can change; the awareness that pain, in its continuous iteration, continually digs in depth, increasingly removing the possibility of being reached by any light source of redemption and evolution.
Percezioni Cubitse was my first prose experiment which immediately failed, falling into the form of prose poetry, or surreal prose in the manner of Fernando Pessoa. Born as a kind of Kammerspiel, it soon degenerated into an autobiographical collection of scattered sensations. They are collected here in light of their descriptive value of situations and relationships lived beyond their “real” dimension, following the thread of my particular sensitive virtues.
