Four poems

Joseph Salvatore Aversano

 

In Balconies

 

from

many

floors

down

the

 

scent

of

the

earth

 

lifting

many

floors

up

 

the

rain

 

 

 

On a Morning Blur-Drive Past Phokaia

 

sea sky distant mountains

 

before even a word

 

for blue

 

 

 

Quantum

 

 

particle of dust

 

bounding off

like a satellite lost

 

& yet reflecting

some light

 

& going

at the pace

 

of not going

 

& as if in its

being aloft it’s

 

arrived

 

 

 

Stazione Sizmica Orzi (lunedì 30 marzo 2020)

 

Comparing 24-hours recordings of February 24, and March 30, shows how the seismic noise dropped significantly during the daytime, with almost no traffic going in or out of the city.

— David Bressan. Coronavirus Lockdowns Cause Worldwide Decrease In Man-Made Seismic Noise. Forbes, April 4, 2020

 

w/ an ear

 

to the Po

valley floor

 

 

the new

production

 

plant sleeps

like a hill;

 

 

& in the

impossible

to hear

 

distance

 

 

a detected

stone drops

off of a

 

 

Dolomite

 

 

Joseph Salvatore Aversano currently lives on the Central Anatolian steppe with his wife Asu; and there, they have been observing the steppe’s subtle changes in light and learning the names of its wildflowers. His poetry has been published widely in journals such as Bones, is/let, Otoliths, and NOON: journal of the short poem. A New Resonance 11 (Red Moon Press, 2019) features his micro-poetry.

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