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


There's always room

for one more pear

III. Segesta


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.