Tuesday, July 10, 2012


Reset the tune.

Dispel these crinkled songs
that choke our stride:

we want to climb 
the neon crescendo
in our ears.

We are the palpitating
accents of a flare

that will ignite
the gloomy tablatures
of speech,

and will decode
the life we've sown

between the lines.

Copyright ©2012 Anna Piutti

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Prelude to a Resurgence

Modulations of a heartbeat
vanish swiftly into the blindness
of a flat line.

I've been floating on the hem
of cloudless slumber

at the mercy of slack tide.

But when the sky vibrates
against the quiver in your voice,

the electric air will stain our skin
with chirping flecks.

And I will lean against
the livid screen of nightfall,
cradling the embryo of a storm.

And I will listen
to the lapping of the waves
singing back

to the vast untold.

Copyright ©2012 Anna Piutti

Saturday, November 19, 2011

The loop

Diaphanous as breath,
the present won't apologise:

it's filled our eyes with endless
replicas of circles,
left us frozen
in the twitch of noon.

Freedom used to be a pier
to the horizonless;

now it clings to
stillborn reveries

at the confluence of our words.

Copyright©2011 Anna Piutti

Saturday, July 16, 2011


Leashed conscience,
tacit sutures,

chinks of liquid evenings
in the hallway.

Throbbing steps -

the furious chase for morphing light
has thrown the night off balance.


by the gaping white,

I turn and realize

the void
is double-sighted.

Copyright ©2011 Anna Piutti

Thursday, March 24, 2011


I woke with a start.

Delirious clouds were
shedding decades
down the branches
of an overpass.


the asphalt hissed;
the ether twinged,

and time caved in.

As breath welled up,
the ebbing sun imploded
into heaps of
crumbled laughter.

Hints of stifled sentences
with saffron undertones.

Clouds of
fractured echoes

in my throat.

Copyright ©2011 Anna Piutti

Monday, October 04, 2010


The room has shifted
out of focus,

and below my slanted
ceiling thrives the
pixellated surrogate
of sight.

In the wake of
dappled lies,
I have dissolved
into thin veils of
ashen off-beats.

Memories of flight
are frosted syllables
within the grid of such
desaturated times.

They chime,
rehearsing countless,
scattered eulogies of light
across the grayscale.

Copyright ©2010 Anna Piutti

Monday, May 17, 2010


Let me stay --

your tide is yet to shrink.

I left the dazzled noon ashore
to count her iridescent wounds.

I plunged, I slipped
below the rippling drapes,
where contours drown

Amniotic blue, my
lungs are brimming;
flooded chasms,
nacreous nests of
padded rolling.

Let me stay --

your tide is yet to shrink.

I'll let your undulation shape me,
and we'll stir the edge of sleep.

Copyright ©2010 Anna Piutti