Alexander Booth Poems







Long the light, and still

Hot. First reds, a yellowing  

    In leaf

Breeze on burnt grass

In corners the shadow of wings








Snow and the fence there

Brittle somehow, locusts bare, crust 

    And stalk


Where the sun. Around us

The mountains’ blue-violet arms

And you, a flicker


        Against falling dark

We on the hillside wind-raw, and winter







These cold trees still

Naked and the morning

    Ice rain


But what are the names

Branches, a brushing


Against glass the pale light

Yesterdays back on the tongue






Alexander Booth lives and works in Rome, Italy. Poems and translations have recently appeared in halfcircle poetry journal, Poetry Salzburg Review and Poeti e Poesia; and are forthcoming in Italian Poetry Review and Dear, Sir. He intends to see his first book of poems accepted for publication in the next year and is currently seeking a publisher for his book-length manuscript of translations of the Italian poet, Sandro Penna. In addition he volunteers at the Non-Catholic Cemetery of Rome and keeps a (mostly) literary weblog on Rome in literature and Roman literature,Misera e stupenda città.




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