Dom Gabrielli-

A Poem for a Painter

the blue of the sea

the silver of the olive

the dead white straw of Helios

where your daughter kisses

the absences of jailed night

the white day turns you black

the elite come to inspect your works

they part the pubes of your pride

to insert the probe of their prudery

sometimes they buy

they make out big cheques

zeroes for colours

you wear a black beret

you write long poems in the sun

and recite them to passing trains

film directors from Roma

make films

they win prizes with your character

you have nothing you want nothing

just cigarettes and coffee

the kisses of your daughter

you build the walls of an imaginary asylum

to be alone finally

with the olive trees and the poppies

the choruses of your colours

are the only light left to us

(for Pucceto)

Dom Gabrielli studied literature at Edinburgh, Paris and New York Universities. He has translated widely including published works by Bataille,  Leiris and Jabes. In the early 1990’s, he left the academic world to travel and devote himself to writing. Gabrielli has published two books to date. The Eyes of a Man (2009), his first book of poetry, and The Parallel Body (2010), which he recently translated into French (Les Corps Paralleles, 2012). Gabrielli travels extensively from his home in Salento, Italy, where he produces extra virgin olive oil.