synesthesia

have you ever been able
to taste a sound sizzling
reverberating across your lips
felt the momentary sensation
of knowing something
no one else
can know

can you name the flavor
of steel wheels screaming
or groaning down the tracks
of your dream

oil and vinegar
unseasoned tofu
anchovies

sound crazy

can you still taste them
straight-jacketed in a nightmare
where noise
and sound torture
your taste buds

where days of the week
each have a coinciding color
where you begin
to feel hunger that is louder

than the blaring red of Friday

Barry DeCarli

changes

which part of a person stays unchanging much from decade to decade even as we all play roles pirate or princess poet or pretender priest or player what fragment remains how can that sameness survive so much movement the constant flux and upheaval sporadic boredom imagine being a new person with each breath you take can you feel the loss the growth or the withdrawal of some part of you do we allow others to transform us into someone no one ever knew would we resist the change to hang on to every vestige of who we think we are does a part stay behind the mask we wear can we eventually unravel the impostor’s guise to untangle someone real is there a junction where we see another path where we toss away disguises that protect us in obscurity to reveal a part at least to ourselves that is still the same

Barry DeCarli
June 1, 2018 On South Street ©Barry DeCarli

the rose and the raspberry

we grow thorns
like the rose
and the raspberry
to keep us from slipping
to protect us
from our enemies
how similar we are
to the barbed plants
we tend
the gardens we neglect

we irritate like nettles
we get under the skin
like poison oak or ivy
in the closed quarters of friendship
and family
we become indiscriminate even
to those we love

sometimes we are
passive partners
the stoic sentries
standing against a storm
a season
awaiting the dormant demands to come
our fear fertile
with exaggeration or excuse
prepared to break off
but not to bend

willing to squander
history and evolution
for our prickly pride
taking what we can
while leaving behind
the waste of
our
reckless

pruning


Barry DeCarli
March 30-31, 2017
South Street, Easthampton
©Barry DeCarli

fast forward

looking toward the new year

approaching as yet

unadorned for the celebration

how will the days be filled

what will happen as nightfall

descends upon each day

what will we bring

to the weeks and months

as they open and close

some drawing near now

others distant

will laughter and tears be our gifts

lifting someone’s burden

can we vanquish the ghosts of the past

or will those images still intrude

as we close our eyes to sleep

for some

the old year heralded new beginnings

cast against dark days and

setbacks searing the view

for others

discovery of some holy grail

an epiphany of truth and joy

 for a few more

a slow race against time

to escape through that midnight opening

with still a bit of hope to spend

soon

we’ll all face the same invisible wall

everyone who has traveled far

and  those who were unable

to take a single physical step

we’ll succeed

we’ll fail

while the  earth spins and orbits

sprinting through sunrises and sunsets

we’ll recognize the inevitability of a turbulent ride

as we try to grasp the reins

and hold on tight

Barry DeCarli

December 15, 2017

On South Street

©Barry DeCarli

manifestation

who gets to fill in
the colors
piece together
meld the parts
pick the words
the direction

the masterpiece
of each lifetime
an almost imperceptible
creation
a time-lapse video
not of a flower opening
a bud bursting
a storm brewing

but
of a subtle yet surging manifestation
of the accumulation
of experience
acquaintances
friends and enemies
a quiet collection of circumstance
choices and reactions
a collage of matched
and mismatched mediocrity
and splendor
victories and losses

the addition and subtraction
of joy and pain
drenched and dry
love and hurt
staying and leaving
apology and forgiveness
of multiplication

and then division
the fraction of dreams
the common denominators
of distractions
the few defining moments

a life begins
as a clean slate
a blank canvas
an empty page
dark then light

a cry in a sterile room


Barry DeCarli
October 28, 2016
On Hammond Pond
©Barry DeCarli

My photo of the portico outside of Giancarlo Rocco's Palazzo Pannolini apartment we rented on Via Zamboni, Bologna. November 15, 2016

a candled soul

would you welcome

a microscopic look at your own essence

someone peering through a magnifying lens

to discover what’s there

and what isn’t

who would unwrap your secrets

where your words are only wishes

your thoughts hint deeply

or just skim the surface

as a glimmer in your eye

maybe someone who

who finds a way in

carrying scales and light

to weigh and to candle

even your embryonic dreams

your age-old regrets

is able to see through your tempered skin

past your veins, muscle and bone

to view just how you balance

what you don’t say with what you will

to glimpse your soul

what if that revelation is

not a violation of your private shell

but a release…

Barry DeCarli

August 17-18, 2017

On South Street

©Barry DeCarli

prayers

the prayers skipped out

lackadaisically

no destination even imagined

a shot in the dark

with no target

person, paper or god

or they traveled

haltingly

no matter their urgency

like the damp whisper of a snail

on a six inch journey across a stone

or at the speed of light

blazing unseen into some dark corner

of the universe

or maybe they just sat nearby

on the sill of a window

closed to time and space

waiting

yet the response

was quick and blunt

like a lightning bolt

to the deadened brain

giving no relief

only numbness

but even not feeling was a better answer

than no

Barry DeCarli

July 9-14, 2017

On South Street

©Barry DeCarli

going through the motions

some of us coast through our days never facing  a major hurdle never learning that big lesson maybe a small epiphany  now and then but but not a revelation  some of us are good with the path  of least resistance  the view from the bleachers  where there are no defining moments few, if any, victory laps still many of us feel little desperation  in our own ordinary knowledge  the bits of experience  we've pieced together the little lessons that built us up or knocked us down some of us have not discovered our own voice yet we find some solace some peace in what we have to say it can take a while to hear the drummer to find the words as we go along all the while knowing that lip-syncing  someone else's song should never be enough... Barry DeCarli May 19, 2017 On South Street, Easthamptom  ©Barry DeCarli