Massimo Fantuzzi

Chamber Music, Tinned

(Rich society in solitary sobriety.)

Passing the constricted gardens, dressed of candles and hope,
hurts to the point of waning, verge.
To resonate with chain,
lettering, digging loitering,
a tight sculpture of the Regime overlooks poor pleasures
outlaws’ affairs brooded behind cemented grey routine.

Rampaging over an otherwise urban mellowness
the bronze feet to kiss.
Where to dear Lady on this fine day?

Belly of the Beast

(Lights set, preludes for the night.)

Within his head all the corners were cut.

           But I love pearls

Former you the world I have cheated.

Once cut, a corner will show a tendency to multiply.

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