Bloom!

Mi devo occupare di quel roditore
e della morte
dei pensieri lontani
as past wishes
get future memories.

Vorrei occuparmi di quel che resta
delle ossa
of the structures
of what we think won’t matter
and yet, matters to stay.

Potrei e posso
tenermi occupata
out of the story
and look for
my historycal evidence
woanders.

Ein lebenslanges Ritual
to be grounded in the deep or to be burn into the highest sky?
To preserve? Far
della morte un feticcio
to celebrate life?
Esco e passeggio
to rediscover that
we are nothing but stardust
aber hier werden wir immer wieder zum Kompost.


how would you make the poetess happier?