I Am Not The Earth  
 
It is no use your chid­ing me for my being an elu­sive stuff slip­ping still out of your hand. In vain you keep on grum­bling I had bet­ter be more con­crete, stead­fast, tan­gi­ble, con­sis­tent. My true nature shuns your senses every time you think you hold her after long pur­su­ing my sem­blance. Whatever you try at my essence, she van­ishes like a sun­set shadow stretch­ing out and out before dying. You are look­ing for your main­stay, a ground to rest on to look around with­out ever los­ing your bear­ings. But what I am is chilly air, I am wind; I am water and the salt dis­solved in it, yes, please, con­vince your­self: I am sea. For all you strive you can’t change that, I am really noth­ing you can stand upon. Indeed, noth­ing you can grasp or tread.  
 
 
Believe  
 
If you believe what the eye can’t see — and there is much of that — you will no longer need your eye, or even want to see any­thing. So strive to avert your gaze from the object of your desire, for there are things you crave — with­out being aware of it — that go beyond the reach of your per­cep­tion. When in the end you are con­vinced of that — your eye for­ever closed and doomed to black­ness — there will be noth­ing less than alto­gether clear. All you really need is time, and faith, and courage. Be sure of that, it’s noth­ing you don’t have. Just focus on your frag­mented self. Deny your eye. Believe.  
 
 

–by Alessio Zanelli

 
 

Alessio Zanelli is an Italian poet who has long adopted English as his writ­ing lan­guage and his work has appeared in over 100 lit­er­ary mag­a­zines from 12 coun­tries, includ­ing Aesthetica, Arabesques, California Quarterly, Chiron Review, Dream Catcher, Existere, Flaming Arrows, Italian Americana, Orbis, Other Poetry, Poesia, Potomac Review, Poetry Nottingham and Poetry Salzburg Review. He is the author of three col­lec­tions, most recently Straight Astray, and a fea­tured author in the 2006 edi­tion of Poet’s Market.

Alessio is also the edi­tor of an inter­na­tional review of black and white pho­tog­ra­pher, which pub­lishes poetry as well. It’s called “Private.”

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Copyright© 2008 by Alessio Zanelli and Spinozablue. All Rights Reserved.

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