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And Then Evening Comes |
The yes and no continue,
their commas and question marks,
their dishes and leashes,
stretches and knots,
misunderstandings and shots,
sometimes it seems that the days
are Hamletic, not me,
enjoying wallowing
in the cicadas of to be and not to be,
hubbles and clatters
sometimes love hiding what matters,
and then evening comes.
It’s beautiful in its lessened velvet blue,
it’s always beautiful
despite the entanglement
of all the Nevertheless,
despite the relentless
clamours of doubts,
for instants the ineluctable
“this is the rub” is muffled,
softened, flattened and flattered,
already a bit inebriated
by the prospect of dreams.
These very lines melting enjoying
the great tatters of letters
of the coming night.
copyright 2019
Davide
Trame |
