Gabriella Garofalo writes

Let reckless flowers rise to your eyes  
When shadows live round the corner -  
White, very white the sculpture  
Where women crash among the azaleas,  
Where the first fruits of awakening  
Fall on the edge -  
Look, there’s a sad story behind:  
It was a place of early death for men,  
Women got by like wrinkled redwoods -  
Grab what’s left, intrusive skies and hunger:  
Something’s burning.  
Sometimes poets or those in their stead  
Wave branches to nourish the soul,  
Words for all seasons -  
Sometimes, a deplorable accident indeed,  
Lips fall down soul and disappear,  
Simple as that -  
See the trees, the electric wires?  
If strangers hang around the sky frets insomniac,  
So he cringes and sells cheap,  
For a bit of shadow and a scent of words,  
The land he loves, sleep -  
You say there’s light, there’s light you insist,  
Sure, but it’s uncouth,  
When you first met she hit God,  
Upset new births, growled inside you,  
Then you cheated on winter and snow went missing - 
Please don’t glim her now blinks an on-off light -  
Yes, fireflies showing up, don’t you know they give advice 
In the most unusual ways?  

[from A Blue Soul, Argotist Ebooks]