Two tones of Pantone

along the line of the floor

flirting with themselves


are you in the blossom of your youth?

There are brown leaves before the end of summer

And the water tastes of chlorine


OCTOBER 17 2018

OCTOBER 08 2018



I dreamed of you in my sleep. We were communicating without words. I was partially naked. Our silence revived us, much like the sea we swam in that summer.


OCTOBER 1 2018



There are no curtains in Europe. They wake with the sun and thereby follow a routine that is in sync with time, but out of sync with necessity.






Each moment of our dates, not many,


We celebrated as an Epiphany.


Alone in the whole world.


More daring and lighter


than a bird


Down the stairs, like a dizzy




You came to take me on your road,


Through rain-soaked lilacs,


To your own possession,


To the looking glass world.


As night descended


I was blessed with grace,


The altar gate opened up,


And in the darkness shining


And slowly reclining


Was your body naked.


On waking up I said:


God bless you!


Although I knew how daring


and undue


My blessing was: You were fast




Your closed eyelids


with the universal blue


The lilac on the table


so strained to sweep.


Touched by the blue, your lids


Were quite serene, your hand was




And rivers pulsed in crystal slits,


Mountains smoked, and oceans




You held a sphere in your palm,


Of crystal; on your throne


you were sleeping calm.


And, oh my God! -


Belonging only to me,


You woke and at once transformed


The language humans speak and think.


Speech rushed up sonorously formed,


With the word "you" so much




As to evolve a new sense meaning




And suddenly all changed,


like in a trance,


Even trivial things,


so often used and tried,


When standing 'tween us,


guarding us,


Was water, solid, stratified.


It carried us I don't know where.


Retreating before us, like some




Were cities, miraculously fair.


Under our feet the mint grass spread,


The birds were following our tread,


The fishes came to a river bend,


And to our eyes the sky was open.


Behind us our fate was groping,


Like an insane man with a razor


in his hand.




Mirror, Tarkovsky, 1975



AUGUST 29 2018



Wind turbines are only used in European deserts. Meanwhile fish and chips still fuel the men who waltz a few miles adjacent. How does one know they are in exile if there is a bounty of entertainment contained in their shoes?


AUGUST 16 2018



"The formlessness of the original experience may even lead to a dissolution of all form, even in the interpretation. It is this perspective, destructive, yet not unrelated to the original impulse of the mystic, which enables us to understand the borderline case of the nihilistic mystic as an all too natural product of inner mystical upheavals even if [they were] rejected with horror by all those about [them]. All other mystics try to find the way back to form, which is also the way to the community; they alone, because in their experience the breakdown of all form becomes a supreme value, try to preserve this formlessness in an undialectic spirit, instead taking it, like other mystics, as an incentive to build up new form. Here all religious authority is destroyed in the name of authority: here we have the revolutionary aspect of mysticism in its purest form."


Gershom Scholem.


AUGUST 14 2018



From inside this cocoon you were safe. From inside this cocoon you were free of responsibility. I remember the fear I felt as my exiting-entrance awaited, for the world that would have me, I was not ready. Near to its edges I flirted with its truths. Did I know my truths?


AUGUST 12 2018

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