ON CARAVAGGIO DAYS

On Caravaggio days
believing I'm in the fury
of August's sudden shudder
amid nomad navy waves
and hearing the last siren
as a castaway sailor
getting wisdom to be stronger
with a Homeric poetic song
to outlast on the earth's belly
by the equator's corner
hidden on top deck quarters
by first light with a memory
caught under the iron ropes
and clapping masts
of another century's ways
without much good hope
lost at sea when trills of images
doodle on my canvas
shut off from a photo's light
in tenebrous thoughts
and dark screened visions
illumined my human shape
from home made sunglasses
chasing away a weekend
from any loveless afternoon
in an obscured puzzled time
of a subterranean retrospective
wishing to paint as a refugee
in a new signal of modernity
by recreating electric bas reliefs.
my face passes over continents
on my small kayak
by flying gulls in this day dream
as if on a grey cloudy moon
in distances welcome my shadows
dusting off blue balloons
over my drawing boards
at bay from nature's pleasure,
bright colors hurry to rush in
backing me along this fjord
brushing up my canvas
and lost green knapsacks
to greet me and embrace
breathing in a savor of ocean air
by motioning my camera landscape
in a Mediterranean transparency
over the floating river's lagoons
draping my belief in peace
without facing a rapier or sword
taken in by art's chance lottery
from a wandering phantasmagoria
by a living lesson in another century
over a leisured refuge
taught only by nature's deliverance.