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The closeness . . . misinterpreted . . .

misunderstood . . .

enraptured . . . sidetracked by angularities . . .

by semblance . . . by excitement . . .

Proportionality as part of it, yes? . . .

the retreat to the periphery

of your entanglement? . . .

The invisibility inevitable . . .

Nothing spectacular

save for the acknowledgement of distance . . .

The moment-to-moment nomenclature of glances

with the silence of a rewrite . . .

Antonio Palmerini

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Rehearsing the penultimate

with a strange tongue

for those garden languagers

that can make it here there anywhere . . .

The alternatives crumble

to no-one's surprise . . .

understanding someone's gameplan

includes time-outs

for wrinkled foreheads . . .

Conjuring the dimmest memories

may work for a bit

but the inevitability of intimacy

as hoped for

will doubtless remain locked in memory . . .

False positives, yes? . . .

borrowing lines from the afterlife . . .

as if there is one

pissing and moaning

about yet another attack

on obscurantism . . .

the handcar leaving the station

notes and revisions

that would have made a difference

taking to the air

packing the house

with unknowns and toys for the endgame . . .

Antonio Palmerini

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You're copying pages from the book

you found creased in the sand

but nothing else . . . the emptiness

straddles the drama . . . with you

in over your head . . . a good thing

notes to yourself to close read . . .

the deconstruction . . . an element

to be hoisted onto the mast

with language for the solo voyage . . .

You hammered Moby Dick along

with your other prestidigitations . . .

a Siren entrancing odysseyites in full . . .

Antonio Palmerini

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Moving through characters

voicing their words

not unlike climbing into Instagram

playing the parts

form and function

forgetting the toxicity

of the overblown

with its confinement . . .

Out and about

with this year's seedlings

before the storm at least

before the avalanche at least . . .

Why the nonchalance? . . .

Running the changes as a distraction

fascinated by the fingering

the once and future

something or other . . .

Little matter what . . .

The crowded nursery with cart wielders

eyes and such

speed reading the tabs

imagine close reading . . .

What a trip! . . .

But what about next year? . . .

The ongoing transformation

is the trip you’ve wanted to take . . .

The trip you've been waiting for . . .

Paolo Roversi

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You plant an alphabet in your sleep

and wake to appropriation

as if the characters had been hacked

while counting guests . . .

The math checks out

but the logic to your dismay is playing dead . . .

Far too many have suffered comeuppance

with AI-generated scripts . . .

Don't worry, when the call is made

you'll have a good excuse . . .

The synchronicity is one way to go

but to insist on simple stories

shreds the complexity of language . . .

Misunderstanding's around the corner

and with everything everywhere

if you can imagine that . . .

A cold plunge into translation

would be worth it in bargaining chips

but why? . . . Why the amplitude

of pages in the book on your nightstand? . . .

I thought you were beyond that . . .

Antonio Palmerini