December 2010
8 posts
Men
When I was young, I used to Watch behind the curtains As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men. Young men sharp as mustard. See them. Men are always Going somewhere. They knew I was there. Fifteen Years old and starving for them. Under my window, they would pauses, Their shoulders high like the Breasts of a young girl, Jacket tails slapping over Those behinds, Men. One day they...
Dear Polaroid,
Please do not vanish like Pluto. Some of us geeks still love you.
Lab, Meku.
2 tags
write, shoot, hum
As an artist you are bound to be observant. Take in everything around you. Write anything, take photographs, hum silly tunes because that is how you learn from the world. Let the world guide you to discover yourself and your craft.
Blank Joy
She who did not come, wasn’t she determined nonetheless to organize and decorate my heart? If we had to exist to become the one we love, what would the heart have to create? Lovely joy left blank, perhaps you are the center of all my labors and my loves. If I’ve wept for you so much, it’s because I preferred you among so many outlined joys. Rainer Maria Rilke
“Eroticism is a form of love and vice-versa.”
– Breathless (Jean-Luc Godard) 1960
Excerpt: Short Story Brainfarts
“Here, look at my eyes” she said.
And he fumbled for the right words to say at that unspoiled moment. For this moment, behind the painted glasses and chattering noises was where he wanted to be all his life. And as he slowly lifted his eyes to savor the warmth of her face, he smiled.
...
Morning in the Burned House
In the burned house I am eating breakfast. You understand: there is no house, there is no breakfast, yet here I am. The spoon which was melted scrapes against the bowl which was melted also. No one else is around. Where have they gone to, brother and sister, mother and father? Off along the shore, perhaps. Their clothes are still on the hangers, their dishes piled beside the sink, which is beside...