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Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Love Letter From the Desert to the moon

work in process. Thanks, Imogen, for sharing this place with me.


Love Letter From the Desert to the moon

What has become of us?
I awoke in the middle of the night
Cracked and frenzied
With fossils in my veins
And limestone beneath my nails.
I had dreamt of darkness:
I dreamt I’d lost you among the stars,
Shimmering beaded curtains
Filled with gemstone arthropods and diamond twins.
Had you dropped off the horizon?
Had you failed the night because you could not face me?
My spine stamped with the footsteps of so many travelers,
My tears dried to ancient riverbeds.
The vastness of your absence
gaped at me
My mouth tasted of ash
As my kingdom crumbled into clay.

But in my terror I awoke
And none of it was true.
You were there
Haggard crescent
Staring down from such a distance.

Now, I lie beneath your silver sheets
And shiver without solace.
I forget your scent:
Do you smell the way ice tastes
Did we fit together
The forget has deepened canyons in me:
They howl with the wind
And I cannot quiet them.
I sift the smoothest rocks between my fingers
And close my eyes
Trying to remember.

Saturday, April 7, 2012

Mi territorio es donde ponga mis pies

"It has been found again.
What has?--Eternity.
It is the sea gone off
With the sun."

(From the poem that is my present mantra: "Festivals of Patience," Arthur Rimbaud. go read it read it read it)

The moon rising over the fence around my back yard.

I have a deep fascination for bus drivers and the things they decorate their buses with. I hope that's not weird.

"Soul/Grow Eyes"

Our homes were skeletons we could not escape from, our skeletons were homes we could not escape from

beautiful sand patterns at playa negra, concon.

Monday, April 2, 2012

Honey (Two-Headed Boy), Won't You Let Me In

Impatient impatient, fear I will be fossilized alive by this place. Bought the next bus ticket out of town and jumped on . Sped past shanty-towns and rubble lands and fog, so much fog—-it will freeze you inside-out if you don’t hurry now. I get lost to get found—find me dancing wildly to Billy Idol, chase down kids who got a lust for life, got struck dead lucky, gonna have ash-filled lungs in the morning. Let’s be merry. Let’s be merry until sunrise. Let me get the gray and dead out of me, let me sit real close to you until I remember what it means to feel and forget to breathe. And if you’ve a tattoo on your arm, let me kiss your face so I can have something to hold on to, when I leave this all behind.


Birthday party. Beautiful people. Killer live music, killer dance music. ASADO! Pisco. At one point I sat on a couch with a bunch of great people, listening to the birthday boy and his band jam it out in a room filled with old mattresses. The person who owned the building used to sell fake glasses, so apparently there are cardboard boxes filled with glasses frames. Had one, lost it, obvio.

Also, if the following songs are in your playlist, I probably love you.

“Rebel Yell” Billy Idol
“Lust for Life” Iggy Pop
“Modern Love” David Bowie.

But actually. Never been to a party I was so musically in-tune with. SO MUCH LOVE.

In the real world

Feeling very down because of the shit-show that is the US and the violence inherent in our “colorblind” climate. Have very few words, have so much disappointment. This is a very good spoken word piece from the Million Hoodie March in Philadelphia.

'On Friday, March 23, [Geraldo] Rivera sparked outrage over his comments on Fox News' "Fox & Friends" regarding Martin's clothing. He said that "the hoodie is as much responsible" for the teen's death as George Zimmerman was.

Tracy Martin added his own thoughts on that part of Rivera's apology, thanking him for his words.

“Your apology is accepted," Martin said. "Let me just add one thing with the wearing of the hoodie. I don’t think America knows that, in fact, at the time of the incident when he initially made the call, it was raining. So Trayvon had every right to have on his hood. He was protecting himself from the rain. So if being suspicious, walking in the rain with your hoodie on is a crime, then I guess the world is doing something wrong.” [Via Huffington Post]

Not that any country I've experienced thus far is dealing with prejudices and hate with particular grace. Here in Chile, a 24 year-old homosexual young man was attacked and killed by neonazis, prompting public outcry over Chile's apparent lack of hate-crime legislation.