#cannavino

[colizzialmerico]

Il pasticcere Rocco Cannavino lancia, in edizione limitata, il cornetto «O'Miraculo», dedicato al santo patrono di Napoli...

Napoli, arriva il cornetto più caro del mondo in onore di San Gennaro: ecco «O'Miraculo»

Un dolce omaggio al patrono di Napoli, San Gennaro, con un cornetto che lo ricorda attraverso il sapiente mix di ingredienti, profumi e colo

[coricannavinopoetry-blog]

before leaving

do not continue to harbor hate inside your stomach it will bubble & grow in the heat seep onto the cement steam off the concrete  close your eyes

plant apricot seeds in the  dark soil of your reflection repeat “i forgive you” “for the way you put cigarettes out on my porcelain sheets”

“i forgive you”  for leaving

me coughing through straws  & telephone wires arms outstretched, running after a train that  left long before i had time  for breakfast

always remember but do not cling  to the leaves he plucked from your stomach

throw his letters into the ocean note how easily the sea  can swallow him whole how the waves do not cease  to be as we do

hold your naked shoulders  the way he never knew how to, repeat “I forgive you  for leaving room for  me to love myself”

[coricannavinopoetry-blog]

i left my mind in san francisco

i dropped it on the train

tousled hair & open wounds

i left behind the rain

i left my mind in san francisco

beneath the tethered cushions

of a subway 

going a place i cant remember

but cant seem to forget

i left my mind in san francisco

before i got off at my stop

i left my heart in a strangers 

trench coat pocket

after he told me

something like that

was too beautiful to leave 

out in the rain

[coricannavinopoetry-blog]

i smoked you down to the filter

i miss the cold embrace of winters breath

between each drag of smoke

how you’d frost the glass

around my throat like

train windows

spend the day pressing our palms against their icy interior

i wanted to feel numb

watch soft tissue solidify

to maybe feel as cold

as your insides

is it so much to ask

for the ventricles to tighten

to sit in a bathtub full of ice water

not hear the pumping of blood

the strain of vein

i am trying

i am trimming roots

you live inside my skin like rings on trees

how do i close doors so intertwined

with fingerprints

pressed against his glass

i was always better at the inhale

[coricannavinopoetry-blog]

a love story

if life was a blank sheet of paper he wondered how many words he had left until she hung up the phone and what would happen  when he woke up the next morning with flowers growing from his toes roots wrapping veins & moss on his palms  from the seeds she planted  in his lips he wondered who would  water them

[coricannavinopoetry-blog]

he wasn’t anybody yet and no one asked him to be anyone anyway  a wet match that could never catch flame so he decided why be anything at all  why be nectar bending between curves in concrete  why be something palpable held in palms and shaped to fit perfectly between bars  why make indents of finger prints not his own  sometimes he leaves class to walk around in circles to listen to his own heartbeat  to remember that he is small that the lights never go off in his parents bedroom  and he wakes up some mornings forgetting to breathe dreaming of his house burning to the ground the shell of his skin eating away until yoke seeps from his pores  he does not feel alive how can life exist between the parenthesizes of loss his mothers eyes gaze despondently at the newspaper glancing quietly at the window for the lights of a man who couldn’t make it back for dinner love is broken plates and setting a place for a person that will never make it back for dinner

he knew she could not be his soil  she could not be his soil humans are not made to be the ground work of growth  her skin looked like his mothers best china the kind on display in glass  shelves he decided he didn’t deserve things that broke so easily a little boy with pasty fingers and buttered toes he’d close his eyes and listen to the sound of her breath  parallel the rising of the tide the pulse of a heartbeat plant secrets into hollow ears expect flowers to grow  along the web of her fingers  but he wrote her a letter because he didn’t have anyone else to send it too and all it said was that he knew people couldn’t be homes that homes couldn’t be people  but that his shoes were bloody  and he was wondering if he could sit in her living room  to clean up the glass

[coricannavinopoetry-blog]

my teeth

my body is evaporating chain smoke

from a newborns first breath exuding outwardly in circular winds i am mist slowly softening on sides of windows who are you to tell me that I am less than a pile of discrepancies  i had a plan to run away bring 40 dollars on a train  and figure it out from there but part of him wonders unconsciously about the shifts in time and faces  the release of oxygen  breathe in the bitter aroma of capitalism the bright lights of misogyny notice how bright their smiles in the darkness of the day until it bites the edges of your teeth rots the roof of our apartment the one with the fire escape & broken sink rots the roots of fleshy humanity yellows the gums

we are powerful  and strong but not enough to filter the  nicotine

we together are not  strong enough to crack the bone marrow of human misery  and deceit so underlying embedded within silk sheets

only us alone

i wish i had  all the words to tell you how i felt sitting in that bed yet i fear my teeth  would be washed away

[coricannavinopoetry-blog]

i fear you are still living on my shelf

i have dreams where your skin is dark as night

& i no longer see my reflection

in your pupils

merely the cold remembrance

of a

person you no longer

knew to be

  (broken china and

forgotten vonnegut)

i think people live within

other people

shedding skins

like those stacking dolls

collecting dust on

living room shelves

maybe

the boy i love

still lives inside the boy

who never came home

sometimes i wonder

if he was always

this hollow