“December Dawn” by Piero Bigongiari
Eye, a stone become blood, / late from the eye of God, / plummets bird-like on the riverbed. / Does it pierce the light or create it? What does it expect / in its falling–from its falling? Perhaps / it sees something, searches for something in sleep among the / flowers, / disturbed by its arrival, poor river-flowers, rust-colored umbels / under a dream-rain that foresees the future.
“December Dawn” by Piero Bigongiari Read More »
Eye, a stone become blood, / late from the eye of God, / plummets bird-like on the riverbed. / Does it pierce the light or create it? What does it expect / in its falling–from its falling? Perhaps / it sees something, searches for something in sleep among the / flowers, / disturbed by its arrival, poor river-flowers, rust-colored umbels / under a dream-rain that foresees the future.
