Red As Wake

The loop

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Sat, 19 Nov 2011 13:14:00 +0000

Diaphanous as breath,
the present won't apologise:

it's filled our eyes with endless
replicas of circles,
left us frozen
in the twitch of noon.

Freedom used to be a pier
to the horizonless;

now it clings to
stillborn reveries

at the confluence of our words.

Copyright©2011 Anna Piutti

Theta

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Sat, 16 Jul 2011 19:28:00 +0000

Leashed conscience,
tacit sutures,

chinks of liquid evenings
in the hallway.

Throbbing steps -

the furious chase for morphing light
has thrown the night off balance.

Wide-eyed,

blind-sided
by the gaping white,

I turn and realize

the void
is double-sighted.

Copyright ©2011 Anna Piutti

Deluge

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Thu, 24 Mar 2011 18:34:00 +0000

I woke with a start.

Delirious clouds were
shedding decades
down the branches
of an overpass.

Aghast,

the asphalt hissed;
the ether twinged,

and time caved in.

As breath welled up,
the ebbing sun imploded
into heaps of
crumbled laughter.

Hints of stifled sentences
with saffron undertones.

Clouds of
fractured echoes

in my throat.

Copyright ©2011 Anna Piutti

Fading

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Mon, 04 Oct 2010 20:24:00 +0000

The room has shifted
out of focus,

and below my slanted
ceiling thrives the
pixellated surrogate
of sight.

In the wake of
dappled lies,
I have dissolved
into thin veils of
ashen off-beats.

Memories of flight
are frosted syllables
within the grid of such
desaturated times.

They chime,
rehearsing countless,
scattered eulogies of light
across the grayscale.

Copyright ©2010 Anna Piutti

Adriatic

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Mon, 17 May 2010 21:13:00 +0000

Let me stay --

your tide is yet to shrink.

I left the dazzled noon ashore
to count her iridescent wounds.

I plunged, I slipped
below the rippling drapes,
where contours drown
untraced.

Amniotic blue, my
lungs are brimming;
flooded chasms,
nacreous nests of
padded rolling.

Let me stay --

your tide is yet to shrink.

I'll let your undulation shape me,
and we'll stir the edge of sleep.

Copyright ©2010 Anna Piutti

Circadian

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Sat, 05 Dec 2009 22:10:00 +0000

Nourish me
on a whim.

Let me drink the
liquid spectrum of
your glee, and

feed the sunrise
every dull chord
in your scale

before the hour's end.

Scratch your way out
of my chest --

rough and dry.

Bloodshot cadences of
foreign lives still linger
in the fabric of a train seat.

Iteration of intent. You fool:

there is no such thing as
"same" in the aftermath
of play.

I resent

tiptoeing on the tightrope
of your breath.

In the frenzy of your hunt,
I'll be sleeping at the zenith
of a clock hand.

Future promised;
body withheld.

Copyright ©2009 Anna Piutti

Full circle

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 01:43:00 +0000

It felt as dazzling as the first time
when severed sighs pried pupils
wide agape.

In my veins,

truths unfolded to
the pull of
time unhinged.

Afraid of the dive,

we lingered in a lukewarm
socket until light burst
out of hand.

Now, as you surf

the intermittent void where pitch
and tone are sundered, my lips
speak out within the strobing sun.

We pick up speed, then let
our frequencies converge,
and halt:

the wall dissolves.

Again.

-To my loved ones who are no longer "here"-

Copyright ©2009 Anna Piutti

Four hours

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 23:48:00 +0000

When I fell backwards
in the vestibule of speech,
loud and starched like
an unuttered joke,

the air grew dim.

And as each breath
anesthetized
the night,

I tasted mouthfuls of
torpor.

I knew

a moment of scuffed
quiescence
would suffice

to drench my throat
with radiance;

to hurl me into the midst
of a chromatic whirl.

When I tapped into the
synthesis of resonance and heat,
I took your hand --
we rode the wave.

And the clock had just struck nine.

Copyright ©2009 Anna Piutti

Published in Muse Café Quarterly - July 15, 2009

Anew

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 04:07:00 +0000

Submerged by
liquid stillness,

we mute
the looping theme
of recollection.

Be
blank.

Our mirrored strokes
discard
each tingling residue
of turbulence.

Let go:

these pupils
aren't trapdoors.

For once in this glide,
innocence means
voiceless triumph,

and stainless gazes
trigger shifts
in luminescence.

Copyright ©2009 Anna Piutti

In the backstage

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Thu, 19 Mar 2009 10:01:00 +0000

It is delicately wild
to lip-sync the movement
of a heart --

there, on the other side,
where no floodlights blind.

Only there does breath prelude
waves more powerful than laughter,

as silence shatters thought
into transparency.

Here, where illusion isn’t praised,
no truth, no flaw is concealed
from the discerning eye.

It is here that I stand,
here to stay,

unmasked

before you.

Copyright ©2009 Anna Piutti

Published in Muse Café Quarterly - July 15, 2009

Noise

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Sun, 01 Feb 2009 18:25:00 +0000

Layer after layer,
gloom gurgles through
weary senses.
It spreads like oil, and binds to
every atom

to infect,
to obscure.

I find myself second-guessing
the obvious, retracing my steps
a thousand times, lest syntax
betrays me.

And I struggle to broadcast
vital signs through this static;

and I pray
that my truth won’t be too maimed
when it reaches you.

Copyright ©2009 Anna Piutti

Published in DY Magazine on June 1, 2010.

Blend

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Fri, 05 Oct 2007 21:15:00 +0000

Your stare pours sunshine into me
as a long-awaited rush
connects our heres and nows.

I want to be blood
to irrigate your cells,
and feed delusional eternities
through fleeting flesh.

Now feel us shuddering in unison --
I'm bound to you by warmth;
within you I'm made whole.

And consciousness hums
so deafeningly;

from pulse
to pulse
it echoes --

red as wake.

Copyright © 2007 Anna Piutti

Thank you

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Thu, 24 May 2007 22:49:00 +0000

Tonight's heartbeat
is as joyful as
the intermittent glow
of fireflies:

it plays a frantic game
of hide and seek
with love-filled stares;
it mimics seconds, and

the song of our steps
being poured into
the taste buds
of the earth.

Copyright © 2007 Anna Piutti

Good luck

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Tue, 12 Dec 2006 21:43:00 +0000

You stand in silence,
frozen by the morning's glow.

You won't record those
red-framed paintings made of
sun and glass.

Impermeable, you won't absorb
pure honey from those
amber leaves:

you'll let them flee your tired
stare; you'll hear them rustling like
a butterfly storm headed nowhere but
towards its own swift splendour
(or perhaps, the iris in my eye).

And all the while you'll smile
like ice, utter to withdraw,
and carry on your strenuous quest
for something
everbright.

Copyright © 2006 Anna Piutti

Interpolation

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Sun, 16 Jul 2006 20:22:00 +0000

As you speak
my veins resound
with the rippling voice
of a fibrillating metronome.
A blade-winged moth knocks
from within my chest, begging
for the comfort of my palm.
Now it flutters, now it tingles,
now it screams, “Unchain!”;
and a breath sucks it in
just in time to purge it
of your words
and restore
the rhythm
of self.

Copyright © 2006 Anna Piutti

Published in DY Magazine on June 1, 2010.
Please note: the copyright date appearing in the magazine (2009) is the result of a misprint.

May

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Tue, 09 May 2006 18:56:00 +0000

A sky of moss coats lips and
broken breaths and
engines groan before such

traffic lights: the irises
of felines.

The thorny tongues we all so feared
have spread:

forget the key. We’ll thunder through
them hand in hand until we see the
bridge and maybe

I will freeze-frame that
wave again and

beg you
to forgive.

Copyright © 2006 Anna Piutti

Gasp

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Sat, 22 Apr 2006 19:41:00 +0000

How could one not crave
the kind of truth that makes
trust skip a beat
and fall
amid wisteria storms
when the rageful season
swarms
and sneers, shamelessly
infesting the senses?

Copyright © 2006 Anna Piutti

Clarity

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Sun, 19 Mar 2006 16:05:00 +0000

Was I thinking so loudly?

A heart absorbs the absurd
on a regular basis.

Primordial fears and poisoned
skies are

stage smoke;

but fragrant whispers from
your skin

are open windows
on relief.

And I see,
and I laugh:

I
know
nothing.

Copyright ©2006 Anna Piutti.

poetry,clarity,knowledge,absurd

Oneiric 3 (REM*)

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Sun, 15 Jan 2006 15:59:00 +0000

I wish you knew

that when the light switch clicked,
I caught you checking your
fears in the mirror.

Behind the corner of
my eye, refractions of your
burnished stare

mummified perception.

Subtly blaming me of
blindness, you spoke
of lips sewn shut

and pain unscreamed.

I wish you knew

I never meant to
step so
close.

Copyright © 2006 Anna Piutti

--------------------------------------------------------------------
*Definition of REM (Rapid Eye Movement) sleep.

The Role of Dreams in the Evolution of the Human Mind
(Evolutionary Psychology 3: 59-78)
-------------------------------------------------------------------

poetry,dreams,REM phase,sleep,perception

Current

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Wed, 14 Dec 2005 18:22:00 +0000

Fibers,
flesh. Electricity

transudes through a
sigh.

Sun-bordered clouds migrate from
your eyes to my core:

swooshing of curtains, temples
like drums.

Hypnotic pulsations mark lines
between dreams

and life, as
time contracts in us.

And with the last loud blink
of a light bulb,

shadows withdraw,
and kaleidoscopes convulse.

Copyright © 2005 Anna Piutti

poetry,love,love poems,sensual,sensual poetry,current,electricity

Breakfast

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Wed, 23 Nov 2005 22:14:00 +0000

High above the roofs,
the frost-lacquered
crane branch
holds a
plump, radiant
orange.

Hungry for warmth,
I grasp the vital
sphere and
slice it
into thick
wedges.

A paper towel on my lap, I
sink my teeth
into the morning glow:

calm,
juicy.

Sweetly sour.

Copyright © 2005 Anna Piutti

poetry,light,sun,orange,morning

Way Home

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Tue, 04 Oct 2005 04:28:00 +0000

Old trains and rain,
iron and pebbles...
I sink.

Optimism stepped upon
by nameless passers-by:

a deep breath and a swoon.

Neon lights feel cold
on my skin;
time rolls away from
the tracks, and

I see drops

of tonight on my specs,
scratched mirrors,
the window glass.

Copyright © 2005 Anna Piutti

comments

Platform 3

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Sun, 03 Jul 2005 02:49:00 +0000

I ran my fingers across dry skin and
heavy lids;
my stare caressed a clock obsessing
over sunsets.

I swallowed dreams

and vivid hopes;
I cursed,
beforetime,
their lingering aftertaste.

And alone I stood on
grainy asphalt,
not too far from the
yellow life line,

waiting for the next train.

Copyright © 2005 Anna Piutti

French version

Oneiric 1 (The Moon Lantern)

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Mon, 10 Jan 2005 06:18:00 +0000

Its paper skin, so tense and fragile,
holds the sublime power of unnatural
paleness.

The cold light from its
miniature heart whispers ultrasound
lullabies.

Round, it hangs from a
shelf, in still loneliness.

A moon lantern in the dark:

nothing but a half-sleep snapshot
in vivid haziness, a subliminal
message from dormant
realities.

A smooth and ghastly sphere,
it reigns through inexpressive eyes.
It smiles a red crayon line, in
paralyzed reassurance.

At once,
it cradles me
in incense-flavored
eeriness.

It's inanimate flattery through
my permeable brain;
and it keeps me enslaved,
voiceless,
and void-bound.

It's a countdown to innocence
as time rewinds its tape;

and a purple wave envelops me...

And I don't mind.

Copyright © 2005 Anna Piutti

poetry,oneiric,dreams,visions,subconscious,innocence,moon,lantern,moon lantern

Milena

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Piutti) — Wed, 08 Dec 2004 00:11:00 +0000

- Red table cloth -

The phone rings:
green screen;
Caller Unknown.

"Her mother" - limbs tingle
Her mother - I walk.

Her voice,
my ears,

echoes of
self-deception.

Brown leather:
denial.

My voice:
resonance --

"How is she?"

Hands grasp deer horns on varnished shelves --

"The pain was
Inhuman".

Starched tongue,
forced silence:

Inhuman.

Mind dims:
refusal.

Dark locks, bright eyes:

All faded.

frag ment ed a ware ness...
No more.

No...

Head twirling --
I sink
White void --
I wish...

Warm salt,
sheer sorrow,
circular clarity --

Gone.

- Lunchtime -

Dedicated to my ex-course mate and friend Milena C. - who died with leukemia at the age of 22 on July 19, 2002.

Copyright © 2004 Anna Piutti