Venetian Inspiration

Here are two poems I wrote this weekend. The first I wrote on the afternoon I spent by myself in San Marco's Piazza and the second was drafted in my head as we walked on Sunday morning through the streets of Venezia to catch our train (at six in the morning).

San Marco’s Piazza

Kites made of simple paper
but vibrant design
leave the hands and take flight.
The March wind captures and lifts
each weightless speck til the only
proof of ownership is found in the taut strings
possessed by upward-gazing souls.
One small boy stands watching.
In his gray hat and soft face
he sees the wind snatch the beauties
and tug and twirl them through
the afternoon’s bright sky.
He holds his own by hugging it
tightly to his jacketed self
for fear of losing the wonder of the kite.
What he does not know in his youth is that
this kite’s purpose was to soar.
And it is only when let go that its
full splendor is visible,
joining the symphony of countless others
floating in their perfect dance of flight.



The Sights and Sounds of Venice Waking

The pigeons’ coos are the first voices
to resound before the sun even decides to wake.
The canal is still before the first strokes
pass through to move the waters.
Behind iron gates, shoes, masks, fabrics
yawn and wait to hear the voice of their keeper:
“Look ready, today might be your day.”

And then the facades turn from dull
to a burnt sienna or warm sunflower
as the sun breathes a new morning coat
and fills each window with Venetian light.
Our footsteps break into the crisp morning
with echoes and persistent rhythm
before the first sip of coffee is tasted by the buyer
or the first coin is tossed to the beggar.
Venice waits for its old and narrow veins to be filled
with human life pumping through,
to make this city alive and breathing again today.