Poems by Milli Graffi

the indentation of the final hollow

a voice burrows itself

in the privilege of restraint
last coat of the beast-like heat

before the outside splinters


I remain within the whimper of holy silence
in the utter fruition of my peripheral intelligence
I am where I know I will be forever
in authentic pelt and cloven horn-nubs

lay an embargo on my voice it's costing me


who knows if by grunting the pig interrogates himself
upon his true nature

certainly I
ask my overladen
to proffer some surprises

I articulate a flower
and the butterfly arrives in her easy way

to chirr in the grasslands of my speech

voice that is butterfly
goes where eye cannot follow


I search for the GORILLA-WORD

that in the dense clamor might inflate itself high and mighty
truncating appriopriately

in its uproar might absorb all the green
buzzing of light

but the nose
flayed of fur will be
smooth mountain pink

that it see for me lithe and cunning
the cast net of the good and bad wood

first vowel wide nostril
damned mother

and the rest solidly dissolved in black

Milli Graffi - A Milan-based poet and editor of Il Verri
translated by Michael Gizzi

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