naked

Sigurd Winge: Naked. Etching 1956

. “If I were just careless and began to have the conversations with myself

if I were a blank page of time

a page of time

that everyone around was folding

so everyone all around just kept folding

parts of me all around up

downs and ups and ups and downs

soft little rips
of visions of morning

WHICH MORNING?

ALL THE ENDLESS MORNINGS AND

ALL THE ENDLESS VISIONS OF THEM ALL

IN

C

utting delirium out

love is not even

little bits of shredded papers

WHO SAYS?

HE

SAID IT SO.

in any way and sleeping through that or the invitations to,

all strange men and woman having conversations

and having conversations

all kinds of conversations and all of them kind of

all of the conversations beginning to be had all

at once in swift ecstatic rotation

spinning and spinning and spinning

feet

flickering off feet flickering the fuck off for what seems an eternity for what is only three minutes really

until sinking to the knees.

the reason i called is to tell you about my dream I had a dream of you last night. Did you. Yes you were this old Indian guy standing on the back porch
and there was a pail of water there on the step with a drowned bird in it--
big yellow bird really huge you know
floating with its wings out and you leaned over and said, Come on now
get out of there--and you took it
by one wing and just flung it right up into the air WHOOSH it came alive
and then it was gone.

LOVE IS A FOG THAT BURNS WITH THE FIRST DAYLIGHT OF REALITY

.



.

an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth
but anyway i told the truth

.
Charles Bukowski's definition of LOVE

.
Don't sing love songs...

.

cute one in the sun

Gullivera y O Palhaço

.

O Palhaço

Gostava só de lixeiros crianças e árvores

Arras trava na rua por uma corda uma estrela suja.

Vinha pingando oceano!

Todo estragado de azul.

Gullivera

La mujer más alta de la ciudad es seria

y muestra una sonrisa perversa a deshoras

cuando ofrécete un bombón que otro regaló

cuando gravita las cosas al rededor

y dice ‘liliput yourself in your little place’

No sabe la mujer más alta de la ciudad

que la altitud puede ser un peligro

y que tienes ardiles para coger seres así

¿pero para que tú quieres capturarla

si puedes tenerla sin suelo solo aire?

.

but enough is enough.

Cantiga para nao morrer (Ferreira Gullar)

Quando você for se embora,
moça branca como a neve,
me leve

Se acaso não possa
me carregar pela mão,
menina branca de neve,
me leve no coração

Se no coração não possa
por acaso me levar,
moça de sonho e de neve,
me leve no seu lembrar

E se aí também não possa,
por tanta coisa que leve
já viva em seu pensamento,
menina branca de neve,
me leve no esquecimento




.

foto via this one here

the truth of the erotic event can only be found by those who abandon themselves to the risks of emotional intoxication.

-simone de beauvoir (more or less)

echoes in form

.










.

.


it is what flows between us that is dangerous

and that, though beautiful,

has bombed the world.



.



your mother and i want you to know

that love has taught us nothing

outside of its own terrific force

which though we have withstood it

has only

cracked us open

and made us spill

out.


.




waits

son.

it is in the design of what i have called love

to not be able to be completed.

it is this incompleteness

that has brought about the spillage

and leftovers that for millions

of years perpetuated the world

and it is this selfsame

incompleteness

incontinence if you will

that will end it


waits


very shortly, son,


waits





shortly,

shortly now

.




...
Ariana Reines



.

.

I don't know no love songs,
and I can't sing the blues any more.
But I can sing this song,
and you can sing this song
when I'm gone.


.

.


...where absent is present and now can include then without ceasing to be "now"



.

this woman is amazing

Take Away Show #100 _ SOEMA MONTENEGRO (part 1) from vincent moon / temporary areas on Vimeo.

SLEEPWALKS

.

ONE THOUSAND TEARS OF A TARANTULA


SLEEPWALKING THROUGH THE MEKONG

.

"Women of Troy"

You were the green pastures of Ilium
You are the crumbling theaters of Troy

you can fall

take it to pieces

Yesterday I smoked the placid lake

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . s a i l bo ats cr as hing

. a ll their little swarmings

threw them more tomorrow

I woke

I went

I drank

I went

I kept walking

I reached


I told myself


I came

I thought of you,

¡Oh!

¡You!

/ desperate delirium gushing / / / / / / / / / / / /

Julia Kristeva quotes Mayakovsky on his experience of rhythmic rapture:

""""""

'"

''"

'''""""

“Rhythm: “I walk along wordlessly interrupt

trimmed poetic work

. . siren raining . .

sun

“there is tornado”

my dress my head

Half way through the garden

harder

I pulled some of the broken ones one after the other

desire

the dangers of living

o

wanting/looking

Us Tomorrow

.

.

I AM THERE WHILE YOU CHOKE ON ME

Show me
To my
I meant
Your kinda chocolate