Day Thirty: A Love Poem to Siena

O mia bella città
sei veramente un goiello da vedere
proprio come un cavallo potente al Palio
un cuor che batte sicuro di se

sei sangue ed anima pura
anche il cielo si veste pi
ù elegante per te
sei Stratonice a chiascuno chi ti guarda
tanta belleza mi fa svenire ai tuoi piedi

mi hai rubato il cuor
con le tue strade che arrivano alla passione
fedeltà, fedeltà, fedeltà,
dice il tamburo con ogni passo che mi allontana di te


Honestly I don’t think I can ever find the words to fully express my love for Siena. Here I tried and failed and I ache to find the right words but I could write stanza after stanza and still not begin to touch the heart of what it means to have lived in Siena and get a taste of what it means to be senese.



Day Twenty-Seven: Closed Eyes

I want to close my eyes
and count to three
and relive all the memories
that have made me, me
every single laugh
each tear
and every uncertainty
and that one time
I couldn’t breathe
because you made me
cry and laugh

Day Twenty-Six: This Figure

He sits slouching-
no, no, not this one
he is, say
imperiously, laid-back
bowler hat hiding all
but that sharp chin
There’s a book in his hand
that’d warm me up to him
if he wasn’t so carelessly
riffling through it
with those slender, elegant fingers
that grey suit
he’s like a peacock
in a chicken coop
all the other passengers
loud and squawking
except he looks out the window
carefully watching the train
run past the ocean
and I watch him


The painting in my room was the thing out of place when I first arrived here. Now its an familiar figure, no less mysterious but familiar.


Day Twenty-Five: my issue

my issue is-
and mind you, stop here.
-I’m an anxious soul
yup. you didn’t want to hear that
I stress-eat
I have no focus
everything is impossible
my very muscles
tense up
but I try
yes I fail a lot
but hey, I try
one task at a time
or sometimes, half a task
what are you going to do, you may ask.
well. this is my personal marathon
give me support
and I’ll take another step

Been struggling so much the past several weeks. I know I’m not the only one so for those of you with your own wars, win today’s battle with me.


Day Twenty-Three: Faces

they revolve around me
coming and going
or maybe its just me
that moves and everyone else
stays rooted in their selected spots

they’ll turn and smile
throw a glance and maybe a word
but I always am the statue
silent and watching
as they live and participate

they call out
asking to learn more
about me, and I fall
immerse myself completely
only to turn away once more

they are the faces
that stay in my soul
offering me their hearts
and I take but do I live?
faces with stories.

does a collector live?
that writer who sits back and takes
down the lives and places
others are crying to hear
do they not yearn too?

I am the elusive shadow
in the fairy tale, unknown and strange
I take and leave only traces
this is my tale
this is my crushing weight

I love and I take
listen and give voice
but at the end of the day
I am the bard who packs and leaves
away from the firelight.

into the dark.
looking and taking stories.
tasting the yearning of others
my soul is a patchwork
of all the souls that told their tales

Day 11: Abbey

what’s in an abbey that makes it my peace?
magari it’s God.
magari it’s the people there
who have found a mission and place
magari it’s the candles that seem to dance
in still air
or the rays of sun that pierce one with tranquility
oh, magari it’s that feeling that the worlds stops
in an abbey and one can reflect and look inward
high above the world.
that I could take this peace with me always!



Day Ten: Food

its a twist of the whisk
and a stir with the spoon
what’s for dinner?
a careful accumulation of experience
hurriedly done
lovingly made
slowly savored
a little more salt
show the american a trick or two
an easy discussion of life
juggling food
the kids
the job
being human
enjoying films


Major shoutout to my Italian host mom. She’s an amazing professional, cook, and mom. Honestly I didn’t know how to begin to describe her but the best moments have been in the kitchen so there we go.


Day Nine: Water, Water

it makes my heart skip a beat
every time I hear
the smooth cadence
of water
ocean water
sewer water
fountain water
creek water
its sweet cadence
of trails and airs
I’ve traveled
connecting to those
I’ll be seeing yet


Day Eight: Black and White

things are black and things are white
people neatly
put in boxes
the bad
things are black and things are white
feelings given boundaries
things are black and things are white
I could go on
but I’d

You don’t have to do extraordinary things or be someone important but be open-minded. The world needs that.