Dreaming of Italy, But I Don’t Speak Italian

In your dreams you can be anyone, be anything, do anything, go wherever you want. Why then, in my dreams, am I me? Why then, in my dreams, am I me and I am with you? Not to Italy, not to Spain, but trees and parks in Cincinnati. A place of hills and dreams tucked so neatly into the cusp of the Ohio river. My heart is here and so far away. Perhaps I’ll even find it again.

---

A Rose By Any Other Name

Decidedly pithy

Not such a pity

Two houses

You and I

In fair Cincinnati

Alike in serendipity

Find yourself a part

An actor, an actress

We’re putting on a play

You’ve been cast

In iron

Unmoving

Fettered by nature

Much like a bronze bust

Perfection in antiquity

Opposite me

If you only you could see

The part you have to play

Maybe then we’ll find our way

Two leads

Pro-consuls of that fallen republic

There abound the seeds

On a path we find oblique

Slanting at an angle

That makes it hard to speak