So hard, so fugitive
It possesses me again
The dark loneliness
Beautiful spirits
The uncertainty that is not mine
The hollow
The chilling wind
The shouting
The melodious faces
The manikins under the cloaked sky
I hold to the carpeted soil
I do not want to die, do not want to live
It possesses me again
The icy night
Monday, May 30, 2011
I was a circle of stained wire coiled in a stick (or The memory of my fantastic ages)
A lifeless finger in the lips of the anchorite.
Before, a lot of time ago - let me tell you-
A simple little wind fulminated the galleries
Where I played with toy ponies.
The day dances in your red lips
The world is a cloud
Two tiles the city that raves
And I am telling you this.
A honeysuckle climbs my face
The Sun rises from the wall of the backyard
Where you play with cards and make castles of bumblebees
Stoped in full flight.
The abattoir stopped its shouting for a minute
The door was closed
And we saw an empty truck crossing the thin way
The burning powder got up behind as a hurricane
And the truck was led by a ghost.
The singer honeycomb was hanging from the maple
Where we made the little house of the tree
To protect ourselves from the drizzle of mercury
That fell that entire summer.
I was a circle of stained wire coiled in a stick
Dad was the edge of a sword threaded in a rock
Mom was a rust of syrup in the forage of the sowed field
And our brother of sand still had never moaned.
Then I was pulverized stone, was a fist of powder
Getting up on the way
Filling the eyes to the old owners of the field
And sometimes dad helped me cutting the legs
To their already dead cattles.
We bought our house with the lead
That had stuck to the rocks
That grew only that year
In the quarry of our garden of silica.
We buried grandma in a hole under the arch
At the entry of the village
Mom threw flowers while she cried
And from the wetland grew a brand new river.
I became forester, stalking from the top of the world
I was travelling in dreams by the radiant constellations
Until a wave of ashes undermined my soil
And I fell as an air tunic between the cedar's line.
I saw with more clarity, a sea parted from my eyes
And it went down by the slope of my scratched chest
It flooded my navel, I spied my own mind machinating
I saw the fluttering of the atoms: they were chords of light.
The night, this night simulated by you
When you close your eyes and call me
It whirls in the window, crowds
Whole, in spiral, on itself
And it swallows me, on itself, turning myself in you.
The biting of the day
Amputates the legs
To the mechanical bull of the park
Do not cry, every five minutes I look at the wall
Where it climbs the Sun
Bite bite bite
The Sun eating up the wall that is the evening.
The shout of the breeze slipped under the door of my bedroom
Your face was a rainbow-coloured pen of a sentimental goose
Where it sleeps, playing, the reflected night
Out you were not alone, and when I opened the door
The barking of a dog erased my face.
The entire fantasy of the world
Splitted from my face
I was a rind perforated
By the twilight's wind.
Before, a lot of time ago - let me tell you-
A simple little wind fulminated the galleries
Where I played with toy ponies.
The day dances in your red lips
The world is a cloud
Two tiles the city that raves
And I am telling you this.
A honeysuckle climbs my face
The Sun rises from the wall of the backyard
Where you play with cards and make castles of bumblebees
Stoped in full flight.
The abattoir stopped its shouting for a minute
The door was closed
And we saw an empty truck crossing the thin way
The burning powder got up behind as a hurricane
And the truck was led by a ghost.
The singer honeycomb was hanging from the maple
Where we made the little house of the tree
To protect ourselves from the drizzle of mercury
That fell that entire summer.
I was a circle of stained wire coiled in a stick
Dad was the edge of a sword threaded in a rock
Mom was a rust of syrup in the forage of the sowed field
And our brother of sand still had never moaned.
Then I was pulverized stone, was a fist of powder
Getting up on the way
Filling the eyes to the old owners of the field
And sometimes dad helped me cutting the legs
To their already dead cattles.
We bought our house with the lead
That had stuck to the rocks
That grew only that year
In the quarry of our garden of silica.
We buried grandma in a hole under the arch
At the entry of the village
Mom threw flowers while she cried
And from the wetland grew a brand new river.
I became forester, stalking from the top of the world
I was travelling in dreams by the radiant constellations
Until a wave of ashes undermined my soil
And I fell as an air tunic between the cedar's line.
I saw with more clarity, a sea parted from my eyes
And it went down by the slope of my scratched chest
It flooded my navel, I spied my own mind machinating
I saw the fluttering of the atoms: they were chords of light.
The night, this night simulated by you
When you close your eyes and call me
It whirls in the window, crowds
Whole, in spiral, on itself
And it swallows me, on itself, turning myself in you.
The biting of the day
Amputates the legs
To the mechanical bull of the park
Do not cry, every five minutes I look at the wall
Where it climbs the Sun
Bite bite bite
The Sun eating up the wall that is the evening.
The shout of the breeze slipped under the door of my bedroom
Your face was a rainbow-coloured pen of a sentimental goose
Where it sleeps, playing, the reflected night
Out you were not alone, and when I opened the door
The barking of a dog erased my face.
The entire fantasy of the world
Splitted from my face
I was a rind perforated
By the twilight's wind.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Summer's evening kissing
And your shoes of leather, so worn-out
On what did you tread?
You have seen the mills
And the granaries full of hay
While the summer's evening surprised you
Kissing a pair of strange lips
Why, love, these kisses?
On what did you tread?
You have seen the mills
And the granaries full of hay
While the summer's evening surprised you
Kissing a pair of strange lips
Why, love, these kisses?
Sad instant
Is sad the instant previous
To desperation
And already my dead day
It's fatally defoliated
To desperation
And already my dead day
It's fatally defoliated
Flaming night
Invisible stones in the day
Leading towards a street that
Leaves us beached on an incline
Of black carnations.
It gets dark
On the flaming dew
Leading towards a street that
Leaves us beached on an incline
Of black carnations.
It gets dark
On the flaming dew
Surviving
These scream of sparrows crushes
Entire centuries, innumerables bleedings
Leak from the hollowed sky.
Don't go away between mutilated decantings,
Still we survive under
Demolished walls
Entire centuries, innumerables bleedings
Leak from the hollowed sky.
Don't go away between mutilated decantings,
Still we survive under
Demolished walls
Monday, May 16, 2011
Running dogs
I open, with a silver chisel
your breastbone by the half
You weep for blood, hair, winter dew
In your golden chest I am a mirror
where you do not look
Sparkles
Your eyes already rolling
also by your broken ankles
When your opened abdomen goes out
I am: I turn into a dog
Barking I come to the world
in a canine language
Barking
Naked fangs
bile in the eyes
The blood in the nose is
a rabid river
In the city I find more dogs
running
with their umbilical cords
Curled in their necks of clay
I sink, again
Soft clay
To the shore of the petrified sea
a black effigy in the night
floating.
your breastbone by the half
You weep for blood, hair, winter dew
In your golden chest I am a mirror
where you do not look
Sparkles
Your eyes already rolling
also by your broken ankles
When your opened abdomen goes out
I am: I turn into a dog
Barking I come to the world
in a canine language
Barking
Naked fangs
bile in the eyes
The blood in the nose is
a rabid river
In the city I find more dogs
running
with their umbilical cords
Curled in their necks of clay
I sink, again
Soft clay
To the shore of the petrified sea
a black effigy in the night
floating.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Condemned
What a subtle bite
So sharp-pointed
So mortal
So feminine
They have denied to me
Between this fog
And this eternal jail.
So sharp-pointed
So mortal
So feminine
They have denied to me
Between this fog
And this eternal jail.
Statue
The time is of rubber,
an iron snowflake is melted in my hands,
I rip my eyes off and look at myself.
I stretch myself on the soil
and my mouth fills with light.
The walls parade showing its equal phases,
stone on stone.
I begin shouting one day.
In one century my echo is still fresh and unknown.
I turn, little by little,
into a roving statue
advancing its cemented feet.
an iron snowflake is melted in my hands,
I rip my eyes off and look at myself.
I stretch myself on the soil
and my mouth fills with light.
The walls parade showing its equal phases,
stone on stone.
I begin shouting one day.
In one century my echo is still fresh and unknown.
I turn, little by little,
into a roving statue
advancing its cemented feet.
Re-born
The crossroads rush forth at me and multiply
its variables and escapes.
I find myself left between shades and dancing souls.
The echo of a muted grimace
laughs in the distance of the divided mirrors
and curls in my eardrums.
I escape between varnished socles
to come to the beginning of nothing.
I am where I began, go to no place.
On a tablet without name
I vanish
and I am re-born,
impaled in a hemorrhagic cross.
its variables and escapes.
I find myself left between shades and dancing souls.
The echo of a muted grimace
laughs in the distance of the divided mirrors
and curls in my eardrums.
I escape between varnished socles
to come to the beginning of nothing.
I am where I began, go to no place.
On a tablet without name
I vanish
and I am re-born,
impaled in a hemorrhagic cross.
Dawn
The weak rainfall of the rain
on the sheets of the city of the crowd.
The fragile passing of the hours
between the eyelashes of the rosy morning.
The rooster opens the eyes and roars
between its rainbow-coloured pens.
A carriage comes crackling inside
the tumultuous evening's mist.
The grasshopper perforates the air.
The unattainable land shakes off
under a fulminating uproar.
The fragile fuselage of the dawn
has been opened completely
to proclaim its succulent fruits.
on the sheets of the city of the crowd.
The fragile passing of the hours
between the eyelashes of the rosy morning.
The rooster opens the eyes and roars
between its rainbow-coloured pens.
A carriage comes crackling inside
the tumultuous evening's mist.
The grasshopper perforates the air.
The unattainable land shakes off
under a fulminating uproar.
The fragile fuselage of the dawn
has been opened completely
to proclaim its succulent fruits.
Brave coast
Bunches of left bones edge to
the remote lands where I grew up.
Compasses without course indicate
places of death and decline.
And the zephyr that rocks calmed
gets carried away and defoliates
the ceiling of the studded night!
And it is at the time when I run
by the slimes and the falcons stalk me
and know theirs future carrion!
Oh, heart that goes away for my mouth,
oh, heart that run off
and desert and fall over a precipice up to cutting yourself.
the remote lands where I grew up.
Compasses without course indicate
places of death and decline.
And the zephyr that rocks calmed
gets carried away and defoliates
the ceiling of the studded night!
And it is at the time when I run
by the slimes and the falcons stalk me
and know theirs future carrion!
Oh, heart that goes away for my mouth,
oh, heart that run off
and desert and fall over a precipice up to cutting yourself.
Stone bay
Under the milky stay of the days,
I have seen hollowed ships aground in the wharves.
Bays of skeletons of harpooned whales
drawn against the highest waterfalls.
There the pargos and the horse mackerels
hurl down themselves in their scaled delirium
in search of unprepared algae.
By these slippery and abysmal slides
they are left to see the Red Diamonds
that puncture the dry scales left aside
by the empty corpses.
I have seen hollowed ships aground in the wharves.
Bays of skeletons of harpooned whales
drawn against the highest waterfalls.
There the pargos and the horse mackerels
hurl down themselves in their scaled delirium
in search of unprepared algae.
By these slippery and abysmal slides
they are left to see the Red Diamonds
that puncture the dry scales left aside
by the empty corpses.
Time and men
Under the wing of the west,
I have seen the sparkle of anonymous and greedy stars
swinging and bathing me with rage.
I observe a lifeless hawk in the center of the sky,
it catches me a sudden feeling of pain;
the pain empowers the coast and beyond.
The sea is pain, the waves and the salt are pains,
and the jellyfishes are cancers of nylon.
The sea has died some time ago,
in it corpses and boats float across the times and men.
I have seen the sparkle of anonymous and greedy stars
swinging and bathing me with rage.
I observe a lifeless hawk in the center of the sky,
it catches me a sudden feeling of pain;
the pain empowers the coast and beyond.
The sea is pain, the waves and the salt are pains,
and the jellyfishes are cancers of nylon.
The sea has died some time ago,
in it corpses and boats float across the times and men.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Shadowless
From the crossed
Silence
A drop of light
Falls apart in the morning
Where I shadowless
Run through
Silence
A drop of light
Falls apart in the morning
Where I shadowless
Run through
You
And she didn't come.
Then I drew her, and I went mad.
....Remembering her face of tenuous light
Under the lamp...
... Was her face of dim light this way,
Her thin arm ever moved this way?...
... She laughed this way, looked at me this way, at least?...
She talked to me anytime?...
Etc., etc....
Did she exist?
Then I drew her, and I went mad.
....Remembering her face of tenuous light
Under the lamp...
... Was her face of dim light this way,
Her thin arm ever moved this way?...
... She laughed this way, looked at me this way, at least?...
She talked to me anytime?...
Etc., etc....
Did she exist?
Because of being
He had trodden on a leaf
Simple and already faded
Wrinkled and porous
And so he cried
'Cause the stupefaction
'Cause the pulverization
'Cause his foot
'Cause walking
'Cause treading
'Cause existing
'Cause the relentlessness.
Simple and already faded
Wrinkled and porous
And so he cried
'Cause the stupefaction
'Cause the pulverization
'Cause his foot
'Cause walking
'Cause treading
'Cause existing
'Cause the relentlessness.
Tired
He/She wanted to name that thing
That wasn't to his/her scope
(Something new?)
(Same of always?)
And he/she said that that thing wasn't
Reachable
For him/she
Then he/she was tired
Of thinking, of wanting to say
Something
New
Not new.
That wasn't to his/her scope
(Something new?)
(Same of always?)
And he/she said that that thing wasn't
Reachable
For him/she
Then he/she was tired
Of thinking, of wanting to say
Something
New
Not new.
Monday, May 9, 2011
About to cry
The rough throat of the night
Languishes
And the rebellious ray
Shouts deeply in the morning.
Only the disjointed lilacs
Run across the bitter field.
I see the crowning
Of the last shadow
Changing into light.
Languishes
And the rebellious ray
Shouts deeply in the morning.
Only the disjointed lilacs
Run across the bitter field.
I see the crowning
Of the last shadow
Changing into light.
Vampire
I spit my fruit
Of blood on you, like a
Sower who disappears
By the half-open window. And outside
Only a north wind and a cricket exists.
Of blood on you, like a
Sower who disappears
By the half-open window. And outside
Only a north wind and a cricket exists.
Question
Will you be afraid of my powerful body, subtlely, madly?
Will you kiss me here, as you did before? And between my eyes,
Though they are closed in the twilight? Yes, on the bed, on the clean
Sheets, sand of the beach, a picture in the wall, the light of
The candles exhausted and vanishing, the world outside
And strangely strange, doesn't understand us.
Hidden in the gust,
I hear the uproar of the childhood
Going away.
Will you kiss me here, as you did before? And between my eyes,
Though they are closed in the twilight? Yes, on the bed, on the clean
Sheets, sand of the beach, a picture in the wall, the light of
The candles exhausted and vanishing, the world outside
And strangely strange, doesn't understand us.
Hidden in the gust,
I hear the uproar of the childhood
Going away.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Horror here
A track of blood leads us
To no place. You cry,
I lean myself at the edge of the day.
I cut a bottle from my right heel.
The neon lights blinks in
The bath. An area of light is fused.
My reflection in the mirror
It 's squandered in a vortex.
One century passes without saying anything,
And we look at it with
indifference. Horror breaks
A window. We begin to
To flee by the door. The beam
melts us. We boil.
A slaughtering of butterflies rebegins.
To no place. You cry,
I lean myself at the edge of the day.
I cut a bottle from my right heel.
The neon lights blinks in
The bath. An area of light is fused.
My reflection in the mirror
It 's squandered in a vortex.
One century passes without saying anything,
And we look at it with
indifference. Horror breaks
A window. We begin to
To flee by the door. The beam
melts us. We boil.
A slaughtering of butterflies rebegins.
Another kind of death
What more can I do? Death
bites me in the nape, sun goes
down between my broken legs.
It floods me the fire of its curse.
I cry a serpentine of light,
muttering a nostalgia,
rotting in the haze.
bites me in the nape, sun goes
down between my broken legs.
It floods me the fire of its curse.
I cry a serpentine of light,
muttering a nostalgia,
rotting in the haze.
Falling
I live in the emptiness,
I declare unknown words
that will never be understood,
I double up as a golden thread
And I fall down brutally, devouring myself.
I declare unknown words
that will never be understood,
I double up as a golden thread
And I fall down brutally, devouring myself.
Diamond wind
A diamond air cuts off
the thickness of the plain, an owl
of crystal turns the head and
iridesces the light of the lantern. Grows
the shadow on the corpse,
plebs leaves the cemetery,
and the candles vanishes forever.
the thickness of the plain, an owl
of crystal turns the head and
iridesces the light of the lantern. Grows
the shadow on the corpse,
plebs leaves the cemetery,
and the candles vanishes forever.
Between the fog
I don't recognize your face, either,
In the whitish and heavy fog
that fuses our faces in the morning.
In the whitish and heavy fog
that fuses our faces in the morning.
The man who wasn't there
In the dark dawn, I will not be
In the clear night, I will not be
Behind the whirled wind
Between the bells of March
I will not be
I will not be, and there will only be silence
And there will only be silence and voices.
In the clear night, I will not be
Behind the whirled wind
Between the bells of March
I will not be
I will not be, and there will only be silence
And there will only be silence and voices.
Little rain frogs
...And the rain, and this squelch of little frogs
Of crystal that buzz
In the evening where
The love escapes…
Of crystal that buzz
In the evening where
The love escapes…
Don't return
Don't return, I'm already gone, river of the pleasures,
illuminated abdomen in the desert street, balls of stars
locked in your eyes, laugh of Mediterranean surge, my heart, oh
my orphan's heart that cries solitarily.
illuminated abdomen in the desert street, balls of stars
locked in your eyes, laugh of Mediterranean surge, my heart, oh
my orphan's heart that cries solitarily.
Before dying
… A mirror that lies on having returned
A smile, a flower that dies
Between my fingers overwhelmes me …
Kiss me now under the faded rain,
Kiss me in the last eyelids
Cancelled without respite...
A smile, a flower that dies
Between my fingers overwhelmes me …
Kiss me now under the faded rain,
Kiss me in the last eyelids
Cancelled without respite...
Coming horror
A thick-headedness sombre,
That riddles the windows.
Horror dresses of black.
Wearing thorns in its head.
It begins a slaughtering of
Butterflies.
That riddles the windows.
Horror dresses of black.
Wearing thorns in its head.
It begins a slaughtering of
Butterflies.
Laying out there
It fell the snow on us,
it fell the dew and the winter also.
Under a violent refuge,
we saw mending stars,
that ignored us.
it fell the dew and the winter also.
Under a violent refuge,
we saw mending stars,
that ignored us.
To be called
The words that you say
They bathe
In
My
Mouth.
You love me.
I am of steel.
Volatile flight.
Between galleries of pines,
I am a serpent of pens,
Rain and wind: summer.
Maddened winter,
Gas spectrum,
Gall and savage snows,
In the roofs I am reborn.
You love me.
They bathe
In
My
Mouth.
You love me.
I am of steel.
Volatile flight.
Between galleries of pines,
I am a serpent of pens,
Rain and wind: summer.
Maddened winter,
Gas spectrum,
Gall and savage snows,
In the roofs I am reborn.
You love me.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Other life
Without knowing what I do, through an atrocious nonchalance,
I look my nails in the mirror, rest on the couch
and fall asleep dreaming 'bout my neighbor's house.
I look my nails in the mirror, rest on the couch
and fall asleep dreaming 'bout my neighbor's house.
Insensitively
Everything happens insensitively, like this look,
like this attempt of liberation,
like this child who cries in a dark room,
like this flower that falls gleaming to the garden's soil.
I look and apprehend everything insensitively too.
like this attempt of liberation,
like this child who cries in a dark room,
like this flower that falls gleaming to the garden's soil.
I look and apprehend everything insensitively too.
On the verge
I'm talking with someone whom I do not know.
And in the air there is a fear that flutters and it's on the verge of getting into my bones.
I try to smile. If I touch something I bite it.
The girl is using trousers by John Bartlett.
The same thing might not be happening.
And in the air there is a fear that flutters and it's on the verge of getting into my bones.
I try to smile. If I touch something I bite it.
The girl is using trousers by John Bartlett.
The same thing might not be happening.
In confusion
Michelle comes out from the boutique almost laughing with a seemingly expensive Chanel's clock and with the bag hanging from her shoulder.
In fact, I am trying to stop a taxi when someone leaves a pill in my the pocket and continues walking as if it had not happened at all. A tall, blond guy, I can almost see his unexpressive blue eyes while he walks away tamely, almost smiling.
In fact, I am trying to stop a taxi when someone leaves a pill in my the pocket and continues walking as if it had not happened at all. A tall, blond guy, I can almost see his unexpressive blue eyes while he walks away tamely, almost smiling.
Ordinary day
Sabrine comes in January.
The heat is unbearable but two persons acquire with her, with this new life crying, kicking out, asking, a flaming meaning.
The mother receives flowers of all colors. They are put in water and perfume the hospital's room.
There are smiling faces behind the thick crystal of the room.
To the father: a clap on the shoulder. He has fainted away on having attended the childbirth. It is necessary to congratulate him.
"She will be named Sabrine", the mother announces. Plaudits. She is a healthy girl of almost three kilos and a half.
The mother must rest because the girl does not delay in demanding her only food.
Now she sleeps placidly. It is necessary to make silence.
This times are not known for the inexperienced parents.
It will be little the time that they'll spend in the hospital. It is necessary to repeat that the girl is healthy and strong, as her mother, who surely will be able to have many children without any problem.
There's people searching for similarities. The girl has the eyes of his mother, the nose of his father.
Tears, tears.
The mother would love more children while the father watches how his daughter is nursed.
The heat is unbearable but two persons acquire with her, with this new life crying, kicking out, asking, a flaming meaning.
The mother receives flowers of all colors. They are put in water and perfume the hospital's room.
There are smiling faces behind the thick crystal of the room.
To the father: a clap on the shoulder. He has fainted away on having attended the childbirth. It is necessary to congratulate him.
"She will be named Sabrine", the mother announces. Plaudits. She is a healthy girl of almost three kilos and a half.
The mother must rest because the girl does not delay in demanding her only food.
Now she sleeps placidly. It is necessary to make silence.
This times are not known for the inexperienced parents.
It will be little the time that they'll spend in the hospital. It is necessary to repeat that the girl is healthy and strong, as her mother, who surely will be able to have many children without any problem.
There's people searching for similarities. The girl has the eyes of his mother, the nose of his father.
Tears, tears.
The mother would love more children while the father watches how his daughter is nursed.
Today's news
"...The so called underdogs, who may have no house, work, material goods in general, or lack of known family, patrol around the city until high hours of the night without clear restrictions from the authorities (there are more important problems on which acting). For this reason, Astrid and some of her friends, of good economic background and classified under "educated" by most of society (very slightly common distinction, by the matter), they abstain from crossing the streets for a reason of personal safety and subtle feminine shyness. Often news of robberies are heard, product of alcoholized underdogs or simply by people without nothing to do...
Because of this, some of the interviewed authorities are planning to create a New and Better City strictly designed for the good and educated people.
We believe this could be an interesting project, because underdogs and psychos are everywhere around us ..."
Extracted from a Cynic newspaper.
Because of this, some of the interviewed authorities are planning to create a New and Better City strictly designed for the good and educated people.
We believe this could be an interesting project, because underdogs and psychos are everywhere around us ..."
Extracted from a Cynic newspaper.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Walking Kandinsky
...there are spots of blood in the truth, there is a new show in Sony, I have to buy the new Zac Posan's jacket, I have to turn off the air conditioned, there's a group of "N" girls smoking crack in the intersection of Charlton street and Avenue Of The Americas, it begins to rain while I walk along Central Park and start running and I get wet anyway, Michelle's smile, Helen Frankenthaler's first picture, someone jumping from a bridge in Boston, a car accident in Topeca, Things Outside The Skin's last album, Teri Hatcher's hairdo, an empty cinema in Maine, a tiny plastic horse for an abandoned child, the truth does not exist, Michelle's tears, a black and white (always) photography by Rineke Dijkstra, a "midori mango smoothie" with plenty of ice and pieces of mandarin floating, Spring street in flames, Mikko's blue eyes, André's blue eyes, Candice's blue eyes, my blue eyes, there are spots of blood in the justice, a scarf by Pierre Garroudi and a chocolate bombom, Helmut Lang's belt with a big platinum clasp, a demolished building in Staten Island, Collette Dinnigan's new skirt, my father's blue eyes, a vagabond stamping on a bag of nylon, Kenzo's new perfume, Armani's new umbrella, the bathroom in my brand new Malibu's apartment, an area of light going out when I walk below, the justice does not exist, a "red-headed stepchild", a silver ashtray, a river of ink of colors, a Parliament and a Camel and a Davidoff and a Dallas and Odd Nerdrum's latest picture, a walking Kandinsky, Michelle's smile, Hawaii, Alaska, Washington D.C., Vera Wang's new coat, Kylie Minogue's lips, Michelle's tears, Marilyn Monroe's panties, Angelina Jolie's vagina, the Big Apple, the city of New York, New York City, by Piet Mondrian...
City through a hollow
There is an inconvinient echo of our steps
when we walk without speaking. The house looks like a desert.
Towards the corridor, something stands out: a closed door.
Do not look.
Behind: more desert.
A picture hangs sharply in the wall: Spaghetti, by Ute Nuhn.
The contrast of the white and black makes me suddenly go mad .
I watch through the window by practicing a hollow in the curtain: towards the corner begins the city.
when we walk without speaking. The house looks like a desert.
Towards the corridor, something stands out: a closed door.
Do not look.
Behind: more desert.
A picture hangs sharply in the wall: Spaghetti, by Ute Nuhn.
The contrast of the white and black makes me suddenly go mad .
I watch through the window by practicing a hollow in the curtain: towards the corner begins the city.
Fine, but not perfect
With a soft sound that advances slowly.
Mikko approaches me and says to me that the world is not perfect and he's not trying to change it.
Then he shrinks of shoulders and sighs, which is a modern gesture. Shrink-of-shoulders-sigh-then-smile-then-then-shrink-of-shoulders-.
There is an entire corridor with Jeff Wall's photographies.
But the music languishes and dies between the prefabricated walls.
Mikko approaches me and says to me that the world is not perfect and he's not trying to change it.
Then he shrinks of shoulders and sighs, which is a modern gesture. Shrink-of-shoulders-sigh-then-smile-then-then-shrink-of-shoulders-.
There is an entire corridor with Jeff Wall's photographies.
But the music languishes and dies between the prefabricated walls.
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