Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
a conversation, yesterday
J: Do you know where the word passion comes from? It comes from the Latin passus. It means to suffer.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
with your face sketched on it twice
A still from this beautiful video for "A Case of You" cover by James Blake.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
here i have 2 hands & they are vanishing
Here, when I say I never want to be without you,
somewhere else I am saying
I never want to be without you again. And when I touch you
in each of the places we meet,
in all of the lives we are, it's with hands that are dying
and resurrected.
When I don't touch you it's a mistake in any life,
in each place and forever.
- from Bob Hicok's Other Lives & Dimensions & Finally a Love Poem (thanks Sammy!)
Image: Hedi Slimane
somewhere else I am saying
I never want to be without you again. And when I touch you
in each of the places we meet,
in all of the lives we are, it's with hands that are dying
and resurrected.
When I don't touch you it's a mistake in any life,
in each place and forever.
- from Bob Hicok's Other Lives & Dimensions & Finally a Love Poem (thanks Sammy!)
Image: Hedi Slimane
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
life aquatic
Supposedly Cousteau and his cronies invented the idea of putting
walkie-talkies into the helmet. But we made ours with a special rabbit
ear on the top so we could pipe in some music.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
dialogue
Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to
lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue.
It will not be the end of the world. Fail her.
- Rosemarie Urquico
- Rosemarie Urquico
Sunday, February 12, 2012
forgetting is so long
I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another’s. She will be another’s. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another’s. She will be another’s. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
- Poema 20 (excerpt) by Pablo Neruda
both photo & poem via SOUL(MA)TES
Thursday, February 2, 2012
In Australia
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)