Stefano Donno

Hieratic Poietic. II.

traduzione di Taddeo Roccasalda

There are stories
that mustn’t be told...
I think about Mary, Ben and May
About their summers of passion
‘bout their annoying headaches...
There are stories
that mustn’t be told...
‘cause by telling you run the risk
of wasting time
of breathing hard
unhidden certainties
that in the end beat
waits as long as a smile
There are stories
that mustn’t be told...
especially when you’re out of time
to analyse a sigh of relief in depth
that rots in a dark obsession
when nothing is granted
but to sleep
to sleep only
until the buzzing of a fly
makes you only want
to go to the toilet
while in the grey city streets
stupid guys
are carrying workbags
on their shoulders
and opium smokers
are exhaling
that kind of pain looking like
a shoddy videoframe...
There are stories
that mustn’t be told...
just like that notice written in pencil
on the toilet’s wall
inside a public shop
- If you really like sex,
come to me ‘cause I’m the best!
in the very istant when
closing credits are running
as expected
on a night spent
forgetting
a long blaze of purity...
There are stories
that mustn’t be told...
do an exact compilation
of all those stories that day by day
stifle
enthusiasms
smiles
hidden itches
of ugly faces
of those made of dull
sailor’s melancholies
of those that trace
a word’s life
just when it sways
on the features of a face
coming as an electric field
down the nape
the shoulders
the back
of those made of objects
easy to use
but not enough
to gag
that sulphamidic slowness
of a timeless time...
There are stories
that mustn’t be told...
when in your pocket
there’s nothing left
but going to a place
to any place
to die as soon as possible
with a three-day-beard
sheets stained
with stale humours
supper hummings
Easter melancholies
sudden delays
tin prisons
cement carpets
dealers sick
of selling their tears
neon lights vibrating
among electroshock flowers
huge cakes behind shop windows
bottles of good red wine inside bars
afternoon mists
poisoning lungs
pearly smiles
windows ajar
and...
There are stories
that mustn’t be told...
Tears of the Feeble
Hands of the Slaves
Skin of the Babes
In my eyes
There are stories
that mustn’t be told
Hobgoblin’s hate for Spiderman
Doc. Banner’s performance anxiety
revenge...
...as the Punisher’s itinerarium mentis in deum
Thor’s militancy in Green Peace
Cap. America’s first time
inside marines barracks...
Tony Stark’s first time...
maybe in the same suite where Clinton
let Lewinsky swallow a bitter pill
and then
Bilbo Baggins’ lower middle-class filth
Giant Man’s superman theories
All troglodyte heroes’ superman theories
Manila-Aracne’s love bite for Dylan Dog...
love bite in an eternity drop
Zion’s stupid burocracy
Matrix technophagy
in my eyes
in my eyes
in my eyes
in my eyes
in my eyes
in my eyes
in my eyes
in my eyes
in ...
my eyes
my eyes
my eyes
my eyes
my ....

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