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VacationI want to take a vacation from myself.
To a different place,
Somewhere where I am unknown,
Start fresh for a short while.
Or just become someone new.
Grow into that chosen role,
Without the weight of rumours, expectations or prejudice.
I want to take a vacation from myself,
Or maybe just loose the old me for good.
A survivor in your desert,
I want to cross that isolated space
That you have adapted to--
(even though you made it for yourself)
I want to embrace you as a friend--
But I fear doing so
(because of your prickles).
(Late) Spring cleanThe cobwebs and frost
(or they ought to be)
The first blossom caught in the wind--
Not snow flurries.
Nature seems lapse this year,
When it comes to removing Winter’s dust sheets,
And beginning Spring cleaning
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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