micropoemas de ajo

tomoyasu murata is still my HERO

small crushed poememe

1.

deshacerse (o la tigresa)

miles de inútiles besosabrazos digitales,

we behold many small folds of skirts gathering and pleated,

paper crane kaleidoscopes que se están desmayando por tanto twisting,

bare feet brown from back and forth of pacing,

the wild tiger thrashes at encagement

growls forgotten and collapses

coastlines of architecture, undanceable, u n da nc es

la miramos and she is pelted by our gazes

.

I got caught in a storm That's what happened to me So I didn't call And you didn't see me for a while

For the past five years or so I have been listening to Lhasa de Sela sing, her smokey voice drifting like a tendril from my stereo into my ears: I wandered around the world, took off in airplanes, saw the clouds roll by, walked for hours with nothing but bare tree branches and her voice in my head, in my eyes. I think I always start to see the world in the color of the music that I hear.

I just found a link to a video from her last album:



After listening to this heartbreak of a song, I was floored and I wanted to hear more so I went to her website. There, it struck me to read that she had died of breast cancer at the beginning of this year, January 1st, 2010.

And isn't it strange and wonderful how music, songs, films, thoughts, words, people, conversations, and such and etcetera come together at times and seem to make a cohesive sense to your heart of hearts when it is in a moment of bottomless confusion, angustia, crisis, trembling at the edge of where it will not run out into the words that we desperately use as we try to find relief, release from the pressure, that's when some one offers us a song.

You find yourself having a cup of tea with a man old enough to be your grandfather, but he is a man out in search of love again nonetheless, despite everything, eyes wandering, a gentleman. He wears an ivory, glittery, feathery cake shaped hat. His shirt has flowers and shiny buttons. You tell him that you like it. He says he'd hoped you would.

And he said to me, "every opportunity presents itself in this life, you just have to be open to it." And I watched him skeptically. His eyes deep wells of wisdom, were they? Or, is it easy to say such a thing once you are on that end of life, once you have made it to the other end? Is it easier to say that it is all there for you, that life was and is always giving.

Abundance. Joy.

You just have to keep your ears and your eyes and your mouth and your heart open?
In spite of it all?

Llhasa de Sela...I never met you, I never saw you, I do not see you, I will never meet you.

But I can still hear you,
and I am still listening.


.

Haiku

Haiku Michael Shouflikir

Via OCCHIATA



Ignotum mare

Eliott

Links:

Cosmos and Culture Blog

SETI

Old NUNU article about Peter Pilotto

Tavi


.

berlin

moons and stars.

Norman Laliberté and Joseph Pintauro: The Rainbow Box

I am going to try to find this at the library on Monday....

Pintauro is an author, Laliberté is an illustrator. They collaborated on this box of books in 1970.

images via The Snail and the Cyclops and studiosmith

the overwhelming world of desire

Amantaní

Amantaní

Título: Ulises carrión. Libros de artista. Artist book ISBN: 978-84-7506-588-5 Editorial: Ediciones Turner, Precio: 45.00 € Estado: Sin existencias

En el viejo arte escribes "Te amo", pensando que esta frase significa "Te amo".

(Pero: ¿Qué significa "Te amo"?)

...

En el nuevo arte escribes "Te amo" teniendo la certeza de que no saben cual es el significado. Escribes esta frase como parte de un texto donde escribir "Te odio" sería la misma cosa.

Lo importante es, que esta frase, "Te amo" o "Te odio", realiza una cierta función como texto dentro de la estructura del libro.

...

En el nuevo arte no amas a nadie.

El viejo arte reclama el amor.

En el arte no puedes amar a nadie. Solo en la vida real amas a alguien.

Ulises Carrión


**

*

maybe coffee makes me sad.

free fall

"I remember very clearly, at a time of enormous stress in my life, reading Alice in Wonderland. Alice became a heroine for me because she fell into this hole and she just free-fell. She didn't grab for the edges, she wasn't terrified, trying to stop her fall; she just fell and she looked at things as she went down. Then, when she landed, she was in a new place."

-Pema Chödrön
The Wisdom of No Escape and the Path of Loving-Kindness

Down the Rabbit Hole

Hunger

Les Shadoks

markets in lima

beautiful woman

via the sartorialist

I hope that I look like her when I am old.

january 6

Who has met the snow?