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


Charles said...

As a prisoner in black and white I turned your lovely palette of words upside and joyfully navigated their delightful graphic quality to freedom.


mystic rose said...


I just love all your poems. They are breathtakingly intense!

Anna Piutti said...

Charles -- thank you! You're an amazing B&W photographer.

Mystic -- Thank you so much for taking time to read and comment. I truly appreciate your kind words.

Framarz said...

Your flying imagination with the fast rhythm of light scattered behind unexpected things is the reason i am writing to you.i have to read more poems of the way, you can take a look at my poems here:


Anna Piutti said...

Thank you, Framarz;
I will check out your blog.