Cicada two






The deafening cicada noise booms
the heat that I avoid going into
the exedra, under wisteria shadows.
The life that I escape dries me

Paranoia I see into myself:
I shun any chance to not be lost.
In the air scorched powder dries up
anywhere becomes torrid in the world


July, 1st 2015




That day, after almost seven hours, in my car, back to home


go here for the Italian verson