October 31, 2013

she sees a dark tunnel in my palm.  but i never believe her.

i see outlines of  faces, drawn by little fingers, in hallways that don't end.

the man who is outside the coffin being
seen  from the inside?

this kind of guidance always frightened me.

five oscar levants playing the violin,

in duplicate.  they are stamps on my mind.

October 30, 2013

here, out of the darkness of the cave,

comes a tumbleweed.

nothing but sticks,

my tumbleweed friend,


October 29, 2013

in the morning, the children play the flutes.

the castanet dancer

has her fortune told

with blank cards.

arthur conforts me.  it happens all at once.

October 25, 2013

i was older in the pyrenees.  we stayed there for weeks.  winter.  1948.

you were so much younger.  i watched you wash the dishes.

i am stronger than arthur with one hand tied.  but power is absent here.  we see it's result.

this is our fate.  a sometimes wonderful fate.

October 24, 2013

it is all so circuitous.  my guess is that it doesn't end.

the coffin at the shop had a window.  you climbed in.  the sky was spectacular, you said.

there were always stilts.  why stilts?  we asked ourselves.

dark, muted, romantic evenings in sawdust bars.

finally sex games all night in tunisia.

October 22, 2013

she will dream of balloonists.

at that time, we welcomed our different faces.

deborah said that the transformation took place at sleep.

adelle said that they all dreamed the same dream.

they dreamed