February 2012
1 post
January 2012
3 posts
Everything was a flower. The air was the calyx. The earth, the stem. The Sun, The Stars were filament tips, And deep inside the calyx were your hands, leading me to the edge of the water to breathe in the morning together, blossoming, burning, diving with the sun in the resting sea.
And here we are, now, watching the wind gently ruffle the cypress rows like a quiet sigh. They stretch out...
October 2010
1 post
September 2010
1 post
We used to be at home in the woods, we would pick windflowers on Friday evenings in the weeks after Easter, as church bells rang down the sun. Two by two with braided blonde hair in the early gloaming or with open collars we’d walk and listen to each other’s voices.
We were too rich, too lavish, forgot that the bonfire would soon burn down and catch a corner of our mantle, that...
August 2010
13 posts
July 2010
2 posts
June 2010
4 posts
May 2010
5 posts
The mist comes rolling in from the sea and settles in perfect drops on your face. Hear how the sparrows sing in the cold morning and the branches of naked trees are bearing hope as a sisterly smile. It is January, wet sandy bottom of the year, frost everywhere and hard faces.
Something is alive in us still, but it has slept all winter like a bed of flowers, like pansies, pale-yellow, black, and...
Antony & The Johnsons: Hope there’s...
2 tags
1 tag
With bumps and bruises we fall from the tall trees whose branches we clang to with hard boyish fists and ragged knees. On the ground we stand gasping, and if we are small we yell: Mom, if we are older we stand for a while, touching our face, whipped by branches, touching the knees, scraped by knots, and one of us yells, I’m ok, how about you? and one of us yells to go beat up the third,...
March 2010
3 posts
Gladys Knight & The Pips: If I Were Your...
2 tags
You were always the scorpion, I thought. I thought it with a certain frightful glee, and I used to imagine how you had left your mountain and gone to my river on a cold, cold day, over rocks and under vines as the scorpion of the fable, to my river wide and swift, ferreting about the bank for a way across.
And just when it looked like you’d given up and turned around, you saw me waiting....
February 2010
3 posts
My Bloody Valentine: To Here Knows When
Kiss your...
January 2010
7 posts
2 tags
3 tags
Watchon cows and discovery
I wonder if cows felt pity when they first discovered us; discovering (as cows do) with no need for conquest, watching us as we come red and helpless into the world, squealing like nimble mice across the barn floor. Mouths that can’t chew grass, our silly talking tounges too short and soft to lick our loved ones healthy, and our sad, small useless eyes; they must think...
2 tags
It was summer, one of those summers of endless promise, when I first read about it. I was 12, I think, and more than the smile of La Giocanda, more than the intimate hush of Il Cenacolo, it burned its way into my mind: an inconspicuous footnote claiming that Leonardo kept a large sculpture of Anubis in his studio.
So often since I would imagine the old man toiling under the dead watchful...
Los Angeles Negros: Murio la flor
Murió la flor...
I’m a little afraid, she whispers, won’t you tell me again, tell me what you’re most excited about. It sounds odd, he says hesitantly, but I think… mostly hearing him breathe. I’ve so often listened to you, breathing in your sleep, and now he’ll be there as well, his little short breath with your long calm… No, I can’t imagine what it’ll be...
Serge Gainsbourg & Brigitte Bardot: Comic...
December 2009
1 post
November 2009
10 posts
J. S. Bach: Arioso (Cantata, BWV 156)
Bill Evans: My Foolish Heart
Your lips are much...
Ralph Vaughan-Williams / William Shakespeare: Fear...