Can you feel it?

March is coming.

teasing

open season.

Mars in our midst

Of white tones,
(though ravished
by its darkness)
a brimful
kaleidoscope.

Utilitza la llengua

on the wall, Gracia, Barcelona

Thus ends Chutes Too Narrow

Those to come




Eyeless in the morning sun you were
pale and mild, a modern girl
taken with thought, still prone to care
makin tea in your underwear
you went out in the yard to find

something to eat and clear your mind
something bad inside me went away

quaking leaves and broken light
shifting skin the coming night
the bearers of all good things arrive
climb inside us, twist and cry
a kiss on your molten eyes

myriad lives like blades of grass
yet to be realized, bow as they pass

they are cold,
still,
waiting in the ether,
to form,
feel,
kill,
propagate,
only to die

dissolve
magically,
absurdly,
they'll end,
leave,
dissipate,
coldly
and strangely
return

The Shins

Oh, boy

'Give me the world if Thou wilt, but grant me an asylum for my affections.'

Tulka

A philosophy of life

easy comer, easy goer.

Where we cross

We meet at a myriad sparkling points
I see them fading, remaining few
You see(m) them lighting, becoming more.

And has I go blind, haunted only
by the memory of light

You go forth, maddened much
by possibilities, close and remote.

No better movie

Rules of Engagement

I live my life according to poker rules.

You mean, You bluff?

On occasion,
but mostly I pay to see.

Jusqu'ici tout va bien

L'important c'est pas la chute. C'est l'atterrisage.

So, Fall.

and keep falling.

A problem

The problem of carrying the past with us
is
that each day the past is more
and much less of everything else
future

And though the present is always the same
(one can never have more present than it has)
It weighs on us,
thus.

Tribute to Ennis and Jack

Man, plus Sony Cyber-shot DSC-W1, plus Adobe Photo Shop, light and sharpening effects

Saturn revered

We are the sons of Saturn
And though the day is long
and trying
We shall be here tomorrow.

But if we are not
Know that
We do not resent it.

Things

I can not see the middle of.

The Libertine

Against Constancy

Tell me no more of constancy,
The frivolous pretense
Of old age, narrow jealousy,
Disease, and want of sense.

Let duller fools on whom kind chance
Some easy heart has thrown,
Despairing higher to advance,
Be kind to one alone.

Old men and weak, whose idle flame,
Their own defects discovers,
Since changing can but spread their shame,
Ought to be constant lovers,

But we, whose hearts do justly swell
With no vainglorious pride,
Who know how we in love excel,
Long to be often tried.

Then bring my bath and strew my bed,
As each kind night returns:
I'll change a mistress till I'm dead,
And fate change me for worms.

John Wilmot

Jefferson on my mind

Washington, U.S. of A.

Reverse. Psychology.

Invite me out to dinner and I'll tell you all about you.