Do you believe in what you see

Sunday evening in the fast food hall

I was reading American Gods, loss, and smalltown cream-walled parlors

When they played Garden State on the radio.

Pictures always rise to easy

Outside nighttime was a perfect blue, the colors blending with streetsign hues

the summer we invented love

Back home my tea speaks of Alsace cardamon christmas fairs; my room says home, my hair long like summer. I lose my heart in books these days ; the skin under my nails smells of every place that's ever been.

*

In that time...

We were young gods and we were beautiful.

Such intensity. Intensity. Purity.

Thank you/ thank you/ here is so much left to learn.

White rain
Burnt wood

Atone.

*

Les gens ont des étoiles qui ne sont pas les mêmes. Pour les uns, qui voyagent, les étoiles sont des guides. Pour d’autres elles ne sont rien que des petites lumières. Pour d’autres, qui sont des savants, elles sont des problèmes. Pour mon businessman elles étaient de l’or. Mais toutes ces étoiles-là se taisent. Tu auras, toi, des étoiles qui savent rire !

Et tu ouvriras parfois la fenêtre, comme ça, pour le plaisir….Et tes amis seront bien étonnés de te voir rire en regardant le ciel. Alors tu leur diras : « Oui, les étoiles, ça me fait toujours rire ! » Et ils te croiront fou. Je t’aurai joué un bien vilain tour.

Hearts to you in freedom

and - music

Why, this is not dissolving away as it should.

Trick is never stopping
or you'll think.
High on brain exhaust


Anya Marina - Whatever you like

Et les nuits élastiques.

Salle des Pas Perdus.


In my stomach, in my hair Warmth and that smell stays, it fills you like drops of liquor on your hand and in the folds of your neck

I stare at trains and phone and hands
At my feet on the streets for hours (East) rubbing words out of the ground
Into my stomach, my hair

*

The old me spat in my face
Don't ask me, I'm trembling.

Is young and foolish.

How quickly you fall in, how quickly you fall out.

What if it was a good thing? With everytime the faith.

6180

But what do you know, what do you imagine - and what do you really remember?

Grow your hair back and start again.
Step behind the curtain to a time before you veered off the beaten path, into a midday sun hours before you acted Out the part.

What is : being in character? Blending in.

There is peace here, for a while.
For a while in the bright winter sun, staring out the window of trains.
For a while on the other side of the world.

E.Munch, sick child (detail)

I've stepped out of the dark side and grown too tall for the door
reaching back in for all I have
but life now feels like the tip of my fingers
resting against those loved walls Face turned towards - so that's the sun -

At nine I leave work and commute to a flat in the new executives projects.

It came furnished in empty beige, all nighttime windows and stone-tiled grey counters.

Soft jazz plays on the stereo.

I hang my coat from the entrance pew, pour myself a glass of white wine, stand by the bay window and watch my bridges burn.

What if we were
two
Standing at this building's odd angles
Where nerve shafts come to yawn
and resonate
We would walk off the stairs up the stairs and back again
Rocking the madhouse to sleep

This was life
This was something other

We were Adam and Eves, naming each other
Mapping the world into being
Whipped into being
We did not live apart

And on the thirthieth day like so many lost lambs
We knew each other biblically
Gathered to the sky beholding
The total eclipse of our heart