AT ES EN 
   
         
         
  Click picture to enlarge - click on highlighted title to get all pictures based on this text 
   
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

some music

some music
sums up
all your life
in sound
dew drops
brilliant in the morning sun
haunting your memory
beyond recall





  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Against a backdrop

Against a backdrop

of diminishing light,

the trees have memory,

the last colors

are clinging to Autumn.




 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

(W)ORTE

Sphärenmusik: Gestreichelte Sprache, diese Einbettung der Bilder
ins Schreiben. Herrlich, wie das dauert und spricht.


  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Crocerete

È pieno di presagi
la profonda innocenza del silenzio:
le Alpi cadono dall’etere
e aprono a monti profetici
la potenza dell’Alto.
Sono qui passero tra aquile
trasvolato di là dal pozzo sepolto.

Cross-Net
The deep innocence of silence
is filled with omens:
the Alps are falling from aether
and open to prophetic mountains
the might of Highness.
I am here: a sparrow among eagles
flown beyond buried well.

 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Crocerete

È pieno di presagi
la profonda innocenza del silenzio:
le Alpi cadono dall’etere
e aprono a monti profetici
la potenza dell’Alto.
Sono qui passero tra aquile
trasvolato di là dal pozzo sepolto.

Cross-Net
The deep innocence of silence
is filled with omens:
the Alps are falling from aether
and open to prophetic mountains
the might of Highness.
I am here: a sparrow among eagles
flown beyond buried well.

  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Il Balcone 3

Nell’imbrunire sul fiume
attendiamo il cartoccio dell’inverno
ascoltando i barcaioli che chiamano
sciogliete gli ormeggi, navigate, salpate



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Diversi modi di affliggersi 3

o scrutare le stelle
nel bagliore della neve

pallide
nel cielo invernale
che si proietta al di là
di ciò che è noto



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

For most of my life

For most of my life,
I have been disturbed
by silence the way some
people are disturbed by
storms or windy nights.



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Nella rete il fiore

Il gabbiano appeso nel tempo
ora sa i nomi che decifrano il mondo:
e si dissolve, si dissolve nel blu.
Dal limine la luce orlata pure,
dopo essere stata, svanisce.

Flower in a Net
The seagull hanging on Time
knows names decode the world
and goes now, it fades in the bleu.
The hemmed light is leaving too
its threshold: this light can't be more.

  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Un filo invisibile

Tre fili. Uno rosso conchiglia
che segue il passo stupito nell’ombra
del filo nero anguilla, surgiva
che punta alla memoria entrata
nella saliva e non udiva del canto
l’inesprimibile filo bianco
mentre saliva trasaliva inerpicata
alle curvilinee radici poste
ad est di qualsiasi volo di questo
inmondo stare dispiegati.

 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Un filo invisibile

Tre fili. Uno rosso conchiglia
che segue il passo stupito nell’ombra
del filo nero anguilla, surgiva
che punta alla memoria entrata
nella saliva e non udiva del canto
l’inesprimibile filo bianco
mentre saliva trasaliva inerpicata
alle curvilinee radici poste
ad est di qualsiasi volo di questo
inmondo stare dispiegati.

  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

(from 3.47 p.m.)



How can we even speak
of leaving

with the last of this year’s leaves yet to burn?





 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Come quietly

Come quietly here with love songs whispering,

With your storied lips your gentle kiss bring.

The day was long, yet the day´s light´s falling,

Her eyes seduced by the night?s muse calling.




  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Digo su nombre.

Digo su nombre.

Es el ángel quien desprende sus alas

y las cola en mis espaldas.



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Digo su nombre.

Digo su nombre.

Es el ángel quien desprende sus alas

y las cola en mis espaldas.



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Digo su nombre.

Digo su nombre.

Es el ángel quien desprende sus alas

y las cola en mis espaldas.



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Queen of Worlds 1

The worn moon cries
from a thousand hollows
of unbearable whiteness,
squashed against her event horizon -



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Queen of Worlds 1

The worn moon cries
from a thousand hollows
of unbearable whiteness,
squashed against her event horizon -



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Origami

Eligiendo los colores, una ama de casa se concentra
hoy es día de cisnes.

El papel necesita sueños
para despegar de la mesa.

Precisión en los gestos
con decision se concentra
las alas, el cuello, alguna pluma, ella
sonríe, llama al viento y desvela su diseño
y por una vez los aires no le son indiferentes
sino que libran su casa del vacío oprimente
de existencias diarias.



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

beyond my wishes

I am a man
attempting feebly
to work words into
the figures of birds.
They have no life
beyond my wishes.



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Queen of Worlds 5

Queen of dust,
fatal to those who linger
at the honey around her vortex.



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Are there words?

Are there words that do not create images?
More likely images exist for which we find no words.
Thinking in words shows our limitations.



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Cesa el viento

Cesa el viento, la voz nace

y como fruto se abre a la llovizna.

La sombra viva, de fuego, danza.



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Cesa el viento

Cesa el viento, la voz nace

y como fruto se abre a la llovizna.

La sombra viva, de fuego, danza.



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Cesa el viento

Cesa el viento, la voz nace

y como fruto se abre a la llovizna.

La sombra viva, de fuego, danza.



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Eating Out

You´re hungry.

Ravenous today.

Little time for words.

The meal must be served.

At once.

No candlelight, music, wine or waiters.

Formica tables, and food on Melmac.

Let us not stand on ceremony.

Let`s Eat!



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Eating Out

You´re hungry.

Ravenous today.

Little time for words.

The meal must be served.

At once.

No candlelight, music, wine or waiters.

Formica tables, and food on Melmac.

Let us not stand on ceremony.

Let`s Eat!



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

I have never

I have never

invited these poems, yet



they keep on arriving

one by one, shaking



the rain

from their shoulders



as they emerge from

the dark beyond my door.



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

art international

colorful paint
on a blue canvas
runs down in strings

crossing borders & languages
flowing into hearts and minds
slowly
at ease

the bottom end
of the canvas
is not the end
of the message

  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

art international

colorful paint
on a blue canvas
runs down in strings

crossing borders & languages
flowing into hearts and minds
slowly
at ease

the bottom end
of the canvas
is not the end
of the message

 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Wandinschriften 1

Paolo super man
Vive la liberté!
Frisches Gras ist angekommen

  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Gegenüber

Gegenüber der Umriss
einer Gestalt.
Gibt sich nicht zu erkennen.



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Arriba el mar

«Arriba el mar es un fulgor inefable, abajo el fondo es una espumosa tiniebla».

  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Oigo caer el agua

Oigo caer el agua

de todas las lluvias sobre la tierra

y la voz blanda de los ríos

cantar en sus cauces.



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Windgekämmter Schnee

Windgekämmter Schnee

Vögel mit Frühlingsstimmen

das Rauschen des Jahres



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Long ago

Long ago, they

finished you

with white lacquer,

so like the color of

ghosts in dreams.

Years you stood

upright and perfect

at the parlor wall.

Your spindled legs

carved and curved

gentle as a sonatina.



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

ABIDING CHEMISTRY

...Cigarettes burn into ash.
Strong metals rust. Bombs are transmuted
into rubble. Planes explode
in fireballs. White bones
leach slowly into dust.

But on a brighter note, they add,
kinetic bonding tends to hold
our molecules together....

  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

deine augen


deine Augen, blaugrüne Steine,

über die Eidechsen

mit goldenen Rücken huschen.



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

deine augen


deine Augen, blaugrüne Steine,

über die Eidechsen

mit goldenen Rücken huschen.



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

deine augen


deine Augen, blaugrüne Steine,

über die Eidechsen

mit goldenen Rücken huschen.



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

My fingers

My fingers create shadows

which weave and spin.

My desire, a dancer.

My love a ballet.



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

My fingers

My fingers create shadows

which weave and spin.

My desire, a dancer.

My love a ballet.



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

My fingers

My fingers create shadows

which weave and spin.

My desire, a dancer.

My love a ballet.



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

I´ve noticed

I´ve noticed that today, the air is especially sweet.
The birds have me transfixed upon their graceful dances.
The sky is even bluer against the newborn greens.
Still, I think I´ll begin by fetching the cushion
for this old wicker porch chair and make
certain it still holds me well.
Then I´ll begin to make my plans
for tomorrow.


 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Diversi modi di affliggersi 2

coglie il crepitio delle foglie
prima della pioggia

il tenue cu-cuu dei colombi
nell’ombra
dove il fiume s’attorciglia



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Diario di Bordo 4

e trattengono, semi-trattengono, credenze filtrano attraverso gli anni,
spargendo la luce che un tempo avevano posseduto,



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Diario di Bordo 2

corteccia e alburno di rametti ammucchiati stretti.
Più avanti le correnti contrarie attraggono la barca,



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

reflections

reflections
of reflections
backlit by fire
and glaring light
in a world upside down
where masks reign

green

in its circumference
of mirrored silhouettes
that seem to be
looking for something
elsewhere

 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Aviso



Este poema es tuyo
ayúdame a conservarlo



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Si tus sueños



Si tus sueños
llegan tarde esta noche
abre los ojos
para que entren los borregos
con toda su blancura
a pastar en tus pupilas.



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

I´m so happy,

I´m so happy,
This is what I´ m so happy about:
My lovely pond, the water soft and green
(So lovely, if not for the algae and their muck).
And the grasses and reeds, rustling calmly
(But scattering dirty little seeds all about)
My lawn, away from the noise of the city,
(But those weeds and slimy slugs do sadden me.)
My spacious house, the rugs and other precious things
(But where did all the dust come from? And bathtub rings?)
I love my life with all the people in it
They´re always welcome to come and stay
If only they could get along, be nice, not fight
And not always find a fly
in the ointment of my life.
Why can?t they all
Just be happy
Like me



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

New England Cold

I´ll bend myself

Become a comma in the dark

Lie cave enclosed

And closing eyes and ears

My heart



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

matrix 1 (CHIN)

黑色洞穴伫立于宇宙混沌中央
Matrix 矩阵环绕天地四方
贪婪的
数以千计的触手
钢铁的
驱逐卷引着数据流疾闪过脑际

入夜我们无念空若涅槃
疲惫的躯干
渐睡去
以获取新的能量
待来日
六道輪迴中仍滚滚不息的無常



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

matrix 1 (CHIN)

黑色洞穴伫立于宇宙混沌中央
Matrix 矩阵环绕天地四方
贪婪的
数以千计的触手
钢铁的
驱逐卷引着数据流疾闪过脑际

入夜我们无念空若涅槃
疲惫的躯干
渐睡去
以获取新的能量
待来日
六道輪迴中仍滚滚不息的無常



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

ABIDING CHEMISTRY

...Cigarettes burn into ash.
Strong metals rust. Bombs are transmuted
into rubble. Planes explode
in fireballs. White bones
leach slowly into dust.

But on a brighter note, they add,
kinetic bonding tends to hold
our molecules together....

  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

LEAVES ARE BURNING

...Rain glitters black upon the pavement.
Sodden leaves splay out
in flaming crimson starbursts,
fringed by passing feet....



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Calcasieu

I remember river summers.
My friends and I, young savages
whooping war, swing out on vines
over coiled brown river water
splash yelling into clouds of rainbow light.

People have been known to drown
in these dark waters when they flail
against the roiling hissing current.
But Louisiana children know the score.

To keep afloat you just lie back into the river,
rest into those rippling arms
ride her currents in white laughter,
know she bears you where she will.


  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Are there words?

Are there words that do not create images?
More likely images exist for which we find no words.
Thinking in words shows our limitations.



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Are there words?

Are there words that do not create images?
More likely images exist for which we find no words.
Thinking in words shows our limitations.



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Umriss

Harmony between thumb
And pointing fingers.
As far as the eye can see,
Shine the young Fields
Like silk.

And you never know,
How the story ends
You never know,
Who told them.

Compared with the outline
A figure.
Is not to recognize.



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

The Cardigan

The Cardigan

For an old man,
the house is never
warm enough.
So, he owns
at least one sweater.
Gray, or maybe
Brown, bought by
someone thoughtful.
A gift for a birthday.


Held across his chest
by wooden buttons,
It goes
with everything.
In it, the world is
a comfortable place,
where there are
no seasons.
Only slow afternoons.

After a good lunch,
his eyes will
pull on their lids.
Later, someone
will have to tap
his shoulder gently.
He will have to
be startled back from
places of perfect peace.

He will say,
Oh, I must have
dozed off.
And then maybe,
It's a little chilly in here,
Don't you think?


  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

matrix 1

schwarzes loch im zentrum der welt
die matrix umschließt uns
gefräßig
tausend tentakel
spinnenarme aus stahl
datenströme schneiden durchs hirn

leer bleiben wir übrig am abend
ausgesogene hüllen
die schlafen müssen
um neue nahrung zu werden
anderntags
für das große tier



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Concert

I went to a concert and sat
Bows moved back And forth while I sat And listened
The woman next to me sat And listened the man on
The other side sat and listened as The bows moved
Back and forth and the pianist Got up to pluck the strings on
The inside of the piano plunk plunk
Looking bored
The conductor moved his baton
The woman on my left listened I listened the man
Listened after 43 minutes we stopped listening
And moved out in orderly fashion
Neatly between the rows of chairs and left
Down on the street again
I boarded a bright white taxi
Red lights inside glowing and warm
And heard the driver singing
Her cadences caressing the details of her GPS system,
Heard her tires swooshing on the still wet asphalt
In time with the whip whoosh of the windshield wipers
Heard a knock in the fancy engine un-evenly tuned
Ra ta tat ta tat
The rhythm carried me home
Swinging, sweet chariot


  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Venezia 1

Su gradini di marmo dántichi palazzi
Lácqua sincrespa come foglia dóro
Polverizzata nellinquietudine delle barche
Nylon asciugano davanti alle facciate
Nel fondo del mare nulla marcisce
Una porta dopo láltra si chiude

 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Graffiti 2

Pappagallino volato via-
Riportare dietro ricompenso
Alla famiglia Baierl,
Secondo piano.

  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Through a Window, Sitting

Insights condense
in the skies I test.

Figures tumble
from mist.

Yet, it is not a
bottomless blue,

Which draws
my wonder.

Rather, the broad
palates of gray,

The vagaries of
the willful wind.


 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Allow me what remains of my life

Allow me what remains of my life

to forget all those things

I cannot remember.



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

I love you ...

I love you is not enough.
Some things defy the naming.
Let me rest my head
on your shoulder and
rest yours on mine.
Take my glance, it
contains much more.
I have no words
more true, more tender
that what is found
in that vast silence.


 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Questions

Questions persist and persist,
and haunt even our dreaming.
We take them with us, into
the dark and the sleep.
Yet, they awake with us.
Even as we wander the world,
nomads in search of found places,
They know where we are going,
and they stay close behind.


  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Turm zu Babel

Zwei Männer erbauten den Turm zu Babel.

Sie wagten sich an die Rede mit einer Leiter, wie die zwei Männer,

die auf dem Mond spazierten.

In Wahrheit waren es zwei Frauen.

Zu- und abnehmend ohne Wiederkehr.



 
  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Grief

grief can be a temptation
and relief
you plunge into it
immerse yourself
dive to its depths
look at the world
as through a glass
darkly
you meet the others there
who plunged before
you talk to them
and feel
the water slowly rising in your body
and recognize that they
drowned years ago
and you have not
yet



  picture by: Maria Luisa Grimani

Greenleaves

The Tower has repelled invaders
for a thousand years. Now its gates
are breached by gawking hordes.
We queue up to buy tickets, trot
in docile rows behind Beefeater brawn.
Our guide cracks jokes
tells tales of spilt entrails
laughs at squeamish shudders.

In the Chapel, he tells us
bones were found beneath the stone
and some belonged to Anne Boleyn.
When we ask could they be sure, he grins
oh yes she had six fingers
on one hand. When they said
she was a witch, she?d cover up
in flowing sleeves.

When we emerge the sun is cold and bright.
I hear the faintest echo of mocking laughter
tickling rippling daffodils. Among greenleaves
the wind blows evanescent madrigals
upon a flute of bones bleached white.