A cycle written after a journey through Sicily


I .Madonie

Lapis Lazuli below,
  Peeking politely out of pockets and creases
    of the blooming hills, 
                     gnarly branches,
      Stone, grass, honey,
                              The taste of endless sunshine


II. Market

Some with silvery scales,
Some armed with suction cups, teeth like daggers, glistening gills,
All wearing Mediterranean perfume. 
Flies feast, waltzing on the ice
Cacophanies of calls
All melts into the air
Filling the straits between the stalls
Where produce-laden bursting plastic bags meander
But
There's always room 
for one more pear


III. Segesta

There!
Pediment hovering over honeyed hills
Like sleepwalking, ascent up paths of cacti
Among the metopes time stands still
The amber haze condensing into guttae
To stand beside these rough and ancient bodies
To burrow deep into this sacred space
Skin turned to stone under the sun's caress 
It's here: eroded, weathered, battered, yet
Unmistakable: a superhuman peace. 


IV. Caravaggio

The Caravaggio
     alone, altar-like
          whirlpool of chiaroscuro

The guard: are you afraid?

Afraid? No, just impressed...


        Well, maybe a little



V Monreale

Pearly patterns
Precious stones
Frenetic walls and floors
Geometries frolic
And yet
Up high,
Where Midmarch sunbeams 
Strike golden halos into flame,
Byzantine infinities hover
Above the saracenic daydream.