Cinema Paradiso
On a morning in November
words appeared at the end of my pen
like the answer to a question
I hadn’t yet asked.
like the answer to a question
I hadn’t yet asked.
One became a condor, another
a cloud,
while a third word, spinosity,
came to life in the dream of a thistle.
Which is more real,
the snow or the snowball,
the word or the letters of which
it’s composed?
