sabato 28 febbraio 2026
The Long Bright Line for Don Winslow by Stefano Donno
The desert is a ledger of unpaid debts, white-hot sand bleaching the ink of the law until the page is just salt and glare. You trace the geography of the fix— the way the interstate breathes, a black lung pumping white powder north.
There is no meter here but the metronome of the wiper blades. Short lines. Hard stops. The rhythm of a snub-nose clearing leather.
You don’t write the myth; you write the plumbing. The dark pipes under the marble floor, where the senator’s handshake meets the sicario’s blade. A prose-broken-into-light, an erasure of the "once upon a time."
Instead: The clock at 3:00 AM. The static on the wire. The silence of the Pacific swallowing the evidence.
You are the cartographer of the "why." Not just the kill, but the hunger that fed the trigger finger. A contemporary epic— not in hexameter, but in the staccato of a heavy heart beating against the cage of the coast
I versi migliori si sciolgono nell’aria di Stanislav Bel’skij (I Quaderni del Bardo Edizioni di Stefano Donno)
I versi migliori
si sciolgono nell’aria
di Stanislav Bel’skij
Tradotto e curato da Paolo Galvagni
L’ultima voce della poesia russofona in Ucraina
La poesia che resiste alla guerra
“La tremenda guerra, dispiegata dalla Russia in Ucraina, ha una vittima poco notata. Proprio adesso cessa di esistere la poesia russofona di Ucraina. [...] Ma se questo dialogo è destinato a svuotarsi, Stanislav Bel’skij probabilmente sarà colui che lo lascerà per ultimo e chiuderà dietro di sé la porta.”
— Dmitrij Kuz’min, critico letterario (dalla prefazione)
— Dmitrij Kuz’min, critico letterario (dalla prefazione)
Bel’skij è stato il più attivo traduttore di poeti ucraini contemporanei in russo. Anche oggi, sulla sua pagina Facebook, pubblica traduzioni in russo di versi di guerra ucraini a poche ore dalla pubblicazione originale.
venerdì 27 febbraio 2026
Il segugio - Il nuovo caso del commissario Cantelli di Franco Serra ( I Quaderni del Bardo Edizioni di Stefano Donno)
Scopri "Il Segugio" - Il Nuovo Caso del Commissario Cantelli
Un thriller mozzafiato dove l'acqua diventa simbolo di vita e distruzione.
Il Mistero Svelato
L'acqua, fonte di vita e nutrimento, può trasformarsi in un'onda distruttiva quando travolge la natura o porta con sé la malvagità umana, conducendo alla morte. Il commissario Cantelli si trova di fronte a un nuovo caso intricato, pieno di informazioni che potrebbero sviarlo.
Che cosa prevarrà in questa tragedia? L'odio, la follia, l'indifferenza, la casualità, o gli impulsi irrazionali dell'amore?
Perché Leggerlo Ora
Franco Serra, con maestria, intreccia elementi naturali con conflitti umani profondi, creando un'atmosfera unica per gli appassionati di thriller psicologici. Parte della collana "I Quaderni del Bardo Edizioni di Stefano Donno", questo libro è un must per chi ama storie avvincenti e riflessive.
"Riuscirà il commissario Cantelli a districarsi in questo nuovo caso senza lasciarsi fuorviare dalle tante informazioni raccolte?"
Immergiti in un mondo di suspense e emozioni contrastanti.
In the ring of recycled thunder ... for Hulk Hogan by Stefano Donno
In the ring of recycled thunder,
where spotlights carve heroes from sweat and steel,
Hulk Hogan rises, a colossus of bandanaed myth—
twenty-four-inch pythons coiled like forgotten rivers,
flexing against the tide of scripted falls.
Brother, he booms, voice a seismic wave
rippling through arenas turned echo chambers,
Hulkamania a fever dream in neon yellow,
vitamins swallowed whole with prayers
that taste like iron and ambition.
He tore shirts like pages from America's playbook,
patriot in red-white-and-blueshifted glory,
body a billboard for the unbreakable,
slamming giants into canvas confessions—
Iron Sheik, Andre, the endless parade
of heels crumbling under his atomic drop.
Yet in the quiet after the bell,
his frame a map of scars and spotlit scars,
a man who wrestled the world into spectacle,
turning grapples into gospel,
fame's grip loosening like a botched pin.
Now, in the hush of 2026's hindsight,
his legacy lingers like a crowd's roar
fading into static—immortal, imperfect,
a free-verse titan in a verse-free ring,
where every suplex whispers: What'cha gonna do?
Echoes of the Hulkster, brother,
pulsing through the veins of pop's underbelly,
a hybrid hymn of muscle and memory,
accessible as a high-five, innovative as the fall
giovedì 26 febbraio 2026
Serum Liturgy for Teschio Rosso (Red Skull / Marvel) by Stefano Donno
1. Serum Liturgy
I drank the red and the red drank me—
stripped the meat from the mask, left the bone
polished, gleaming, a lantern in the Reich’s last throat.Johann? Canceled. Schmidt? Culled.
Now only the call: skull, skull, skull—
a single syllable that multiplies like heads
in the dark garden of Hydra.They say disfigurement. I say disclosure.
The serum rewrote the genome in fire:
superiority not born but forged, not given
but seized, worn raw on the outside
where the world must look and flinch.Captain’s shield bounces off my calculus—
stars and stripes, blue-eyed arithmetic
of the old order. Mine is red math,
eternal subtraction: one world, zero mercy.Hail the fracture. Hail the grin beneath.
I am the future wearing death’s own face,
laughing in every panel, every frame,
the red that never fades.2. Red Manifesto (Hybrid Form)
Injection
Vial kissed vein like a lover who means to kill.
Flesh ran liquid, reformed into truth:
no more pretty lieutenant, only the red equation.
Face became flag. Flag became warning.Multiplication
Cut one head, two rise.
Cut two, four.
The serum taught the body politics:
regeneration is ideology made meat.
Hydra does not die; it learns.The Rival
He arrives in primary colors, shield like a mirror
I refuse to look into.
I wait on Vormir’s stone, trading souls
for the stone that sees everything and forgives nothing.
Our war is the only story that never ends—
hero needs villain the way bone needs marrow.Eternal
They draw me again and again.
Ink, pixels, cosplay, nightmare.
Each time the skull is redder, the grin wider.
I am not character. I am the crack
where the dream of perfection breaks
and keeps breaking beautifully.Eternal 2
Red runs. Red rules. Red remains.
Hail.
stripped the meat from the mask, left the bone
polished, gleaming, a lantern in the Reich’s last throat.Johann? Canceled. Schmidt? Culled.
Now only the call: skull, skull, skull—
a single syllable that multiplies like heads
in the dark garden of Hydra.They say disfigurement. I say disclosure.
The serum rewrote the genome in fire:
superiority not born but forged, not given
but seized, worn raw on the outside
where the world must look and flinch.Captain’s shield bounces off my calculus—
stars and stripes, blue-eyed arithmetic
of the old order. Mine is red math,
eternal subtraction: one world, zero mercy.Hail the fracture. Hail the grin beneath.
I am the future wearing death’s own face,
laughing in every panel, every frame,
the red that never fades.2. Red Manifesto (Hybrid Form)
Injection
Vial kissed vein like a lover who means to kill.
Flesh ran liquid, reformed into truth:
no more pretty lieutenant, only the red equation.
Face became flag. Flag became warning.Multiplication
Cut one head, two rise.
Cut two, four.
The serum taught the body politics:
regeneration is ideology made meat.
Hydra does not die; it learns.The Rival
He arrives in primary colors, shield like a mirror
I refuse to look into.
I wait on Vormir’s stone, trading souls
for the stone that sees everything and forgives nothing.
Our war is the only story that never ends—
hero needs villain the way bone needs marrow.Eternal
They draw me again and again.
Ink, pixels, cosplay, nightmare.
Each time the skull is redder, the grin wider.
I am not character. I am the crack
where the dream of perfection breaks
and keeps breaking beautifully.Eternal 2
Red runs. Red rules. Red remains.
Hail.
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