March 13, 2017

March 26, 2016

i'm replaying images of the past,
like a film reel they go round.  each
time i refine and re-live the scenes.

reality without a mask is too much
to take in all at once.  the slits are an outlook.
imagination adds dimension.

my veiled visage is watching,
sensing.  perception is everything.
don't you see? her...reality?
                                                               chantal linnaeus

March 14, 2016

"shadows are a bit  detached"  he said.  "we are lonely in the city.  there is no one to talk to.  one can talk to the other shadows i suppose.  but we are also absent flesh and blood, and there is nothing to hold on to."
                                                                         early james

September 27, 2015

autumn is already showing some skin.  september
will bring a bridge.
a bridge is a metaphor.  the ancients of inca knew
about bridges.  have you seen these?  i wonder if
bosch envisioned these grasses growing in his
"el jardin de las delicias" ...

no matter the material, bridges are connectors.
bridges are intention.  bridges are perseverance.
bridges are energy.  bridges are time.

oh, how the days i spent with etienne built a bridge!
day by day, until a length of years were placed, we moved
forward together while we labored solo.
little by little by little... a bridge.

bridge:  a gradual process of creating a connector
from one place to another or between entities.

chantal linnaeus

July 26, 2015

her father not only doesn't have the fortune maria said he had, he's indigent.
he's lived in various shelters the past two years.

maria must have had some reason for this fabrication.
maybe she had a need to test me.

if i am not being tested, maybe she  felt she was insufficient
unless she created an allure of some kind.

 i have regrets still, but a very long time back i made up a complicated lie
to "win" a woman.  i convinced her i was very ill.
i don't even know where the idea came from.
what was i thinking?  her father was a doctor which i was aware of,
and my lie eventually involved him as well.  it's a long story.
maria claiming her father has a fortune pales in contrast.



May 9, 2015

i see mr. skells.  there!  (in the night)

he lives in the gaslight  (the gaslight in my sleep)

he speaks to me (he can see me hear me)

                 early james

hmm... how does this go?

yes... up!



out and over... extend

cross over... a little quicker now

back... stretch

jump... up.

newton's law.  come back down.  on your knees...

propose.  forgive.  grieve.  repeat.

get up again

look... search... you never know.

                       chantal linnaeus


November 1, 2014

when i was a young boy,

the sea would bring visions

October 31, 2014

into my sleep.  my bones

would dance in the dark.  they would dance on my fingertips.

i still see them of course.  

over different lives.  maybe the sea can't be blamed.

i take barbiturates 

so i can see them better,

with a whiskey,  i celebrate the bones of my dream.

where would i be without them?

these bones.  my bones.

not searching.  looking.

tonight i will see them clearly.  they are size of my eyeball.

they will dance.  maybe a little vaudeville.
until they retreat into the darkness.