giovedì 5 marzo 2020


by Sandro D. Fossemò

                                                               (Translated from Italian to English)

A vampire disguised as an office worker has taken flight,
between the lights and the asphalt.
Recorded voices drift around simulacra,
imprisoned in luminous sepulchres.
Spectral codes and untold shadows
wandering around digital tombs.

A pumpkin shines light on the face of an indifferent cyborg;
I have no love for synthetic blood of cybernetic form.
The jaws of the megalopolis devour plastic skeletons,
broken factory windows caused by crazed ravens.
Towers of mirrors sink into smog and hallucination,
where mummies are buried in coding and computation.

In the burning glow of a street light,
a puddle mirrors a clown of pitiful sight.
His hands holding a large spider,
he caresses without any consideration.

Zombies descend in packs,
from abandoned cemeteries of broken TV sets.
In shop windows, signs shine death dour,
on blind and brilliant masks awaiting the bewitching hour.

A crack of thunder provokes a schism,
punctuating the sky’s metallic rigorism,
shattering crystal shards into the abysm.

The dance of witches and wine warm the night,
black cloaks and caves illuminated by flashlight.
Neck bites lacerate fiction,
releasing unbridled ardour and passion.
A damp mist envelops extreme folly,
in shadows I cannot bring myself to sally.

The replicants move away,
while the spectres of the underworld hold sway.
Darkness lives in its own light,
for Halloween has magic of such seductive might!

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