when she's dancing she looks like she's fucking when she's dancing she looks like she thinks how one looks while fucking or she looks like something is stuck and she's confused about it maybe she's dancing the tango in a too red of a dress clear heeled porn shoes and some fat here and there her steps a bit too wide, just out of tune she hasn't done it in such a long time that something down there turned sour or almost disappeared wine softens but when she laughs you can see that it all has become so serious even in dance where she sees the theater but can't perform, she does it just as tenacious as mopping the floor, dirty whore she thinks when a girl slides by all glistening in the arms of a smooth hero for her only the aged shufflers but with eyes closed and somebody without an old smelly coat there is something to dream about, let's see if it can make her come tonight.
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
.....in circles
beautiful, how you walk away, all-powerful with in your wake anger and righteousness. after a clumsy: 'where are you going..' escapes me only inability remains when the long monologue dies down the dog looks up and recognizes this as a simple waste of time.
Friday, December 13, 2013
Now Now we have to get used to things more slow, to love lost and whatever still remains to delicate things in autumn skies and the smell of pine and to what-would-have been-thoughts that we never unlearn. To almost-nothing, and constantly the same four walls and to ringing that never sounds, to staring twenty times a day through a window and above all to yourself, the person you have to drink with at night. And what I have left is nothing, nothing to give away: what I still am is me, only for me.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
We A clear sky like a coat of happiness. Children play - with the azure in their eyes, laughter, they hand out the sky. In a different place, black as obsidian, little brother melted to her back a child watches how heaven passes by. The maker is asleep. And so is his brother. The philosopher says: Hell- that is us. The civil servant says: The rules - that is us. A clever angel hands us some glasses dipped in candid curiosity. The people- that is us. All of us.
Monday, December 9, 2013
Honey
I lived in hotel Paris with this guy, we shared breakfast and lunch, we ate waffles with cream, drank stale champagne because we forgot the bottle after the first toast, we fell asleep. He slept a lot. He slept like a child in bed with his mother, he would lay on his back lightly breathing. When he woke up at night he would poke me because he wanted to tell me about his amazing dreams, he wanted me to wake up, wanted to know If I had dreamt, he told me about the women he had loved, he would ask me, if you were a man, would you embrace me? he would ask me, if you were my mother, would you embrace me? he would ask me, if you were my sister, would you embrace me? He asked me, just before the big fire, when the hotel burned down, never to wear a Kimono made of Chinese silk or to paint my lips red, because he was afraid of his love, he was afraid of me when I disguised myself. It was on a late afternoon in the summer, when he told me he seduced his sister, bold and daring. But he made up at least half of it. Maybe he got a little reckless after 3 hours sleep. He sensed my suspicion, but he was content because his story turned me on.
Friday, December 6, 2013
The art of partying is the art of being bored like a connoisseur and to slowly, drink after drink, forget the dull strokes of daylight. It's the art of moving lighter and wilder to abandon all hope, reject all despair, It's the art of moving a cutie to the Prado of your bed.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Showing and tripping It takes a whole lot of luck to wear this dress and look with compassion to the neighbors who are taking out the trash around midnight. It takes a whole lot of luck to wear this dress and wave down a taxi that is reluctant to drive you outside the city to where all the green is. It takes a whole lot of luck to wear this dress, swallow a pill, go on a balloon trip and look down at the mosaic of your country like a drowsy astronaut. It takes a whole lot of luck to crash carefully in beautiful weather. Some voices shout robe instead of dress.