borzois and wedding dresses
babies and mascara
snails and color pencils
sandwiches and Spinoza
tongues and wheels
tears and radiators
bus stops and vanilla
orgasms and clay
staples and foam
planets and mayonnaise
ants and electric bills
pine trees and leather jackets
placenta and fridges
marble and plug adaptors
shovels and muffins
sex and crumbs
passports and dinosaurs
jam and bridges
wallets and gravy
speakers and honey
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Sunday, July 28, 2013
The Nun
The light coming from the small window
Draws a cross on the stone floor.
The naked walls look at the nun.
She wakes up with the sun.
The wooden chair is broken,
She reads standing up.
She dries irises in her Bible,
Thanks her chosen Father
For the joyful silence she lives in.
She does not know her beauty
And in her sacred ignorance
Glows like a 17th century Madonna.
[Show French Version]
Draws a cross on the stone floor.
The naked walls look at the nun.
She wakes up with the sun.
The wooden chair is broken,
She reads standing up.
She dries irises in her Bible,
Thanks her chosen Father
For the joyful silence she lives in.
She does not know her beauty
And in her sacred ignorance
Glows like a 17th century Madonna.
[Show French Version]
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Sunday, June 16, 2013
The Desire
Oneness in love,
Flesh and thoughts,
Touches the essence of desire,
Waters it with colors
Until it invades my core,
Makes my Self conscious
Of the half I'm missing,
And need,
This other body my soul recognizes
As being where I belong.
Desire sings his name.
It is unfragmented,
Deeply physical,
Dizzily poetic.
It burns in me the need
Of finding myself
In that secure, warm and real
Place of vulnerability
And truth
And offering.
Again.
My perception shifts,
Desire blinds me,
My thoughts start a conversation
With my body.
Reasoning is silenced.
My mind does not understand anything
As being more important
Than expressing love
With the matter I'm made of,
My spirit in its shell,
The shell itself.
There is no place for hiding.
The naked Self
Does not lie.
It can be opened
Without resistance.
No trace of the ego.
In selflessness
Lies the desire,
Pleasure and fulfillment
That the most dogmatic God
Would celebrate.
Like creation,
Inspiration,
Awakening,
Birth,
Desire is sudden and loud.
[Show French Version]
Flesh and thoughts,
Touches the essence of desire,
Waters it with colors
Until it invades my core,
Makes my Self conscious
Of the half I'm missing,
And need,
This other body my soul recognizes
As being where I belong.
Desire sings his name.
It is unfragmented,
Deeply physical,
Dizzily poetic.
It burns in me the need
Of finding myself
In that secure, warm and real
Place of vulnerability
And truth
And offering.
Again.
My perception shifts,
Desire blinds me,
My thoughts start a conversation
With my body.
Reasoning is silenced.
My mind does not understand anything
As being more important
Than expressing love
With the matter I'm made of,
My spirit in its shell,
The shell itself.
There is no place for hiding.
The naked Self
Does not lie.
It can be opened
Without resistance.
No trace of the ego.
In selflessness
Lies the desire,
Pleasure and fulfillment
That the most dogmatic God
Would celebrate.
Like creation,
Inspiration,
Awakening,
Birth,
Desire is sudden and loud.
[Show French Version]
Friday, May 31, 2013
Painting Inspired 4
The Great Day of His Wrath, John Martin, 1851
The world's loud anger will pass.
Elements will forgive
And we'll make love again.
Elements will forgive
And we'll make love again.
[Show French Version]
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Untied 7
Shaken certitudes. Blurry winks. Dripping dichotomy. Glistening doubts. Golden ego. Holes. Numb dreams. Flashing screens. Broken seat belt. Cold interactions. Slow violence. Buzzing neon. Solitude. Creeping fears. Chipped plate. Ash stained shoes. Burning edge. Poisonous steps. Loud beat. Confusion. Peppery taste. Tight jaws. Absence. Empty illusion. Heavy mirrors. Crushed bugs. Oil puddles. Wet matches.
[Show French Version]
[Show French Version]
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
The Wind (and Him)
Slowly woken up
By the changing light in the room
And the sound of a vivid wind,
The man I love
Still full of dreams
Lying beside me,
I look through the window
At blurry and moving trees,
And small white waves on gray water.
Branches and leaves
Paint a palette of greens.
Luminous impressionism.
The wind,
Now stronger,
Anchors the present
Deeply into my ever-marveling soul.
I turn towards
The wonderful human being
I belong to.
He opens his smiling eyes –
Green gray.
They contain everything I see
And everything I am.
I put my hand on his warm forehead.
The wind sings louder.
[Show French Version]
By the changing light in the room
And the sound of a vivid wind,
The man I love
Still full of dreams
Lying beside me,
I look through the window
At blurry and moving trees,
And small white waves on gray water.
Branches and leaves
Paint a palette of greens.
Luminous impressionism.
The wind,
Now stronger,
Anchors the present
Deeply into my ever-marveling soul.
I turn towards
The wonderful human being
I belong to.
He opens his smiling eyes –
Green gray.
They contain everything I see
And everything I am.
I put my hand on his warm forehead.
The wind sings louder.
[Show French Version]
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