Alessio Zanelli lives in Cremona. He is an Italian poet who writes in English and whose work has appeared in about 150 journals from 13 countries. He has published 4 full collections to date, most recently Over Misty Plains (Indigo Dreams, UK, 2012).
Searchers. On the surface of perception.
That is why we’re born. Without exception.
Whether loving, hating or indifferent,
we will never find a chip to breach it,
nor access the underlying lattice.
We revolve around the sphere at pleasure,
but we’re not allowed to see the treasure.
Dazed with truths, sensations and emotions,
we end up effaced as dead ideas.
Shouting loud unheard. Way through. Just happy.
Sometimes the ends disdain to meet.
Lizards rolling down the rocks,
trailers panting up the tracks.
Chasing days of old
while chased by those to come
between a friendly sky and warning mountains,
over slides of dusty grass
and beds of crispy leaves.
I run careless of them all
but mindful of my steps.
Tussling twice with gravity.
Some last bits of snow
are trying to make a stand
in the shade below the crests.
My memories are long gone,
so are innocence and bewitchment.
Muffled tolls from afar
remount the glen and plug the gap.
At last the roam has come full circle.