My stepsreturnabove the meadowsto step onephemeral velvetof Spring.My fingersshakeundecided the kite’s threadof dreamsof tissue paper.Nevertheless,my eyesknowwhobeyond the wallsgloomy of lifethere is lightinfiniteof the sky. Giuseppe Carullo
Fleeting lover, loving and capricious, honest and dissolute, happy and melancholic. Difficult to satisfy easy senses. Hard and light chain. Reality and miracle. Denial and consent. You, poetry. Writed by my father, Giuseppe Carullo
Christmas was coming between distant and close sounds of merry bagpipes. They flew far in the air blown away by the wind the last dry leaves of poplars and chestnuts. At the first light of a pale sun we had left in peace – following two opposite paths – headed to work. Father had greeted […]
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