top of page



The vibe is good and I’m smiling away to myself
And no, Eden is not a secluded, rarefied parlour
Where they just stare at Him,
Don’t believe these tales,
As ever it’s the damned who get jealous,
Those riders and ghosts reading spooky tales,
Among still clouds, hectic waves,
Where indifference proves sheer hell-
They’ll never change, poor wasted souls,
And how come they are naked?
Maybe ‘cause water gets even with your first roots,
Shouting at them names and dirty looks,
So, don’t look upon light nor fear, don't touch
The green among the trees-
Just a quick peek if he asks you
What’s do in your pockets, it’s rain, right? –
So, let him forge the usual corny questions
To stalk your desire-
No big deal,my soul, have you got time
To hunt for a light blue sky?
You might, but your body, and your limbs
Go all out to mess with you, while your days
Do all they can to draw her attention,
Only the Hunter’s moon keeps running
Bit lost in her thoughts-
And you know, don’t you, not only
She dodges the most unpleasant chores,
But she hides to wreck the burning bush,
And you keep hiding too in the blue
Your soul longs for-
Okay, not a wise choice if it doesn’t let you
Meet a life you’d like to have-
Well, to be honest even the moon
Isn’t keen on giving herself to endless nights in blue satin,
Whenever you ask her ‘You in?’
‘Just staring at those newlyweds on the beach,
She looks like a meringue, he a penguin-
But I’m coming’, so she goes to me
In her deep husky voice.

Ferrara, 2022



Not now, not in this room,

Too many clouds, waves, rowdies and easy nights,
So they’re giving up the whole shebang,
Those profaned skies where she would fall apart
At last free of maps, and magnets,
While her unbridled days were lying
Among fruits, and brambles, blazing waves,
The bystanders to light stalking
Clouds, dust, God,
While her words were hesitating,
And her soul kept wondering
About naked vibes lost in high-risk places-
Sure, at first sight it feels like a gift
This impenetrable waiting
When you try to engrave some light
Onto rebellious minds, but downtown they wonder
If the last fires stay silent, or trees chat to each other-
But you, barren light, you simply can’t stand them,
And let them fall among the hunger’s bites,
In this darn evening where a goddess runs
Among teens looking for flowers-
Are you scared of breaks, and caves,
My light who dismantles her, and those days
So like cliffs you slowly abrade?
Look, they are done now, forget the missing,
Their fault as they chose to stay blind,
But you’ve got a daughter, and can’t get involved,
And no, earth, my earth, don't cut her too much slack,
She’s getting here to tear your limbs
Away from a dyslexic light
Only too keen to get rid of you, and her.

Ferrara, 2022


Okay, now ask yourself where
Your fever’s voice ended up, as she wouldn’t leave
With the months you asked in-
But why you didn’t hand her over to sistrum,
Possessed maenads who only speak the body,

That foreign language only the sky can grasp,
A nice trick to shame blue into white,
And sure, you dabble a bit in that language,
But heaven is just a teen, he’s got no clue
About your whims of lost crops, your blind stares
When nestled among ancient stones
Your places keep drowsing, impervious
To skies, gales, water-
But look now, he’s yielding to wrath
While all lost words leap on food,
On barren limbs impervious like mothers-
So, your last hint to her go like this,
Stop sowing light, if heaven doesn’t care,
And dreams of a different job,
Shapes will draw near to us in a wink,
Good, evil, whatever, at least they’re not
Still stones from towers, arcades, or your first wish,
May your words never sound clipped,
As if they were scared of the unrelenting sun,
Of insects going berserk,
While young suburban matrons keep musing
Over ontology issues, think being and nothingness,
And the moon is coldly staring,
Impatient for her night shift to be over at last.

Ferrara, 2022

Born in Italy some decades ago, Gabriella Garofalo fell in love with the English language at six, started writing poems (in Italian) at six, and is the author of “Lo sguardo di Orfeo”; “L’inverno di vetro”; “Di altre stelle polari”; “Casa di erba”; “Blue Branches,” and “A Blue Soul”.


bottom of page