Wednesday, January 21, 2009

.Mother's Heaven

.Mother's Heaven
Originally uploaded by SmallRaffaela
i need to see her. i have dreamed of this moment for a long time. is it in the name? i need not climb the tip of her, only be in her presence. i do not conquer, i bathe in beauty...

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

memory of an instant

Originally uploaded by copyright depuis 1965
this phrase defines a whole world to me, like so many things happen in an instant and they change your life forever. they stay with you, in your visions, in your dreams, in your encounters with people. they flash before your eyes, sometimes seemingly meaningless and yet why this one and not another. and you begin to love them, they make you you. they connect you to this world, to this life. it is beauty. it is the calm before the storm. is the raindrop, falling. flash. and it's gone. remaining. here. now.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

city of memories

you predicted, with that grin across your face, that in three weeks time, i would be wandering this city thinking of you and how i sat here with you, or walked this way with you, or looked on with you, or laughed with you, drank til dawn with you, rode a taxi and kissed in the rain with you, while you would be long gone, smoking cigarettes with polish truck drivers, riding horses across distant landscapes, looking onto new horizons. and i knew this would be true because this is my nature, of walking down these memories of all that is past. it is already happening, just a day after you left my path led me to so many familiar places where i could almost see you again like you were these past few months. and i see people taking pictures, making memories and i do the same but i really have no need of this apparatus, it is my mind that holds on to all that matters.

and i asked this man what he thought his biggest question was and he said why it was that he was never completely happy, why there was always something else that seemed just out of reach. then he turned the question around and i was stumped for an answer. but something surfaced, my puzzlement as to what single experience i am here in this life. because there has been this repetition of good byes, many of them silent, others screaming. and with each good bye i write a story. so it occurred to me that it is not even about me, this life, but about the ones i have the fortune to meet and walk besides for a while so that i can tell their story. and it is not a choice, because when i do walk these streets they hurt my feet and my heart until i write down what has passed here.

i live joy much more deeply and so her sister comes along with tears and sorrow. to be certain. and once i have completed my mission here, i shall leave it behind. like most people they come make their memories and leave again. it is what i have called a "weighstation" and what hemmingway described as "a moving feast"... it keeps you moving this city. that is why i love it so, i cannot stand still like i used to do. keep moving and don't be sad long. but make your own way. and while your story takes me around the globe with you, i write and i live and i dance. and you knew all this because you knew me during my other trials. you listened and i listened to you. when we move together it is meant to be.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

love never ending

i am still lying on your bed
reading dante
we made it through hell
leafing through purgatory
must enter heaven now

i am still sitting on your grave by the sea
collecting flowers
you offer me shells
we walk across the meadow
must now find back to the car

i am still standing at the airport
kissing you goodbye
buying cigarettes
watching the waves
must now remember love is never ending

Wednesday, April 16, 2008


there is a beauty in love. at the beginning you hear the sounds of a music box. you walk across town as if on tiptoes, floating throwing smiles. i fell in love like this when i first moved to paris. all the darkness of the last summer had suddenly lifted from me. i couldn't explain it, but when i crossed the border between germany and france my heart rejoiced all the while wondering what a man-made line could do because there is certainly no change in the landscape. but who can or wants to explain love? it just happens, a spark in your heart leaps over from somewhere. is it to fill a need, an empty spot? or just to feel something?

this love affair lasted a while. i could ride the train and see graffiti-ridden walls, high-rises, desolate landscapes void of any beauty and i would see the magic behind. possibly like a heroin addict who does not realize his rotten state because the chemicals in his brain give him a different message. it is natural heroin, this love that is set free inside of you. but what is it you see then? the truth behind the veil or the veil hiding the truth? i want to believe it is the former, but i have to say there is no difference between the two. illusion and reality are but inventions of our minds needing duality to experience one or the other.

i once lived happily in pan's garden, though i knew it not. a restless heart, a disbelieving heart needed to roam, wanted to experience and learn more about itself. it wanted happiness but also sadness, because inside this guise we must experience all in its duality. though it is all one. like when you hold your hand under hot water. for a moment you don't know whether it is hot or cold, until the pain reaches your brain. we interpret these flashes as either happiness or sadness, though they are but neurons sparking. to the soul it is but experience and it is merciless to the small human heart that must analyze and feel and bleed.

the last time i fell in love i danced again across the pavement and my smiles were even bigger when i rode that train. i didn't read his credentials, i was not careful. it was a spark making its giant leap across some virtual plane. i remember so well the first time i heard his voice it was laughing and i laughed too. and i never saw the line i had crossed cause the landscapes all still looked the same. and i had been in this land before, i gazed across its infinite fields and hills of green. welcome back the bees hummed. and when the landscape became more barren i still did not see it, because the butterflies had become more tragically colorful, glazed over by the occasional tear.

i am walking still this which has now become a desert. my grandfather had the ability to find water so i am counting on my inheritance.

Thursday, March 13, 2008


i approach it always from the wrong angle. the light always shines behind my back so that i throw my shadow upon you. then i want you to feel sad for me. i want your shadow to eclipse mine and we make sparkling darkness. glistening obsidian i saw once inside an ancient volcano in the desert. now all i have left are the purple beads you gave me for christmas. the dalmatian you promised me for our wedding day. the sand i photographed as you were walking ahead.

i am sitting on center stage. and it is the day of your death but you are there paying for the feast. you are shaking hands and thanking the butcher for killing the pig. the butcher's face contorts into a grin. your hand is nothing to him without your money in it. the gardeners are already packing it in, the palms and fruits that are beginning to rot on the table attracting tiny buzzing insects. and then you turn to see me crying. and i see the question upon your countenance before you ask, why are you shedding all these tears my love? i do not understand. see all of these people who came to my wake? they love me you see? it is a beautiful day. why are you shedding tears my darling? go outside and water the spring flowers with them.

and i am not writing this so you can feel sorry for me.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

you me

it is a mask i wear
a happy mask
one that won't allow you to see the real me
i avoid her
until the small hours of the night
when she wakes me up
from waving goodbyes
too many of them
won't you stay just a while longer
you on the beach
didn't let me hold your hand

you i scream the magic word
and you calm me
you are so much me