yesterday / dawn

ayer yo vi la cara
del viento, y en sus ojos
pude ver la sangre
de un mil corazones rotos.

translation:

yesterday i saw the face
of the wind, and in its eyes
i could see the blood
of a thousand broken hearts.

i like it better in spanish. like most things. spanish is beautiful, it's like a golden misty morning.

exactly one week ago i came home at 5 AM and chanced to look up into the sky. the stars were bright like backlit diamonds. i took my sleeping bag and two blankets and climbed onto the roof of my shed where it's mostly flat. from that throne i watched the sky as it turned from black to navy to blue to lighter blue and orange began to fan itself up further and further and then i fell asleep. it was beautiful.

sueño de la madrugada

in my dream we rise together

in my dream we never sleep

in my dream our souls are free

to leave our bodies in the deep

in my dream you are my lover

in my dream i have a heart

in my dream you take my hand and whisper

never shall we part.

who am i

a little spanish poem of the moment

esto es lo que yo no puedo explicar
como la luna, cada noche, grita por el mar

pero dame una mano y vamos a vagar
yo se solamente que quiero explorar!

my art

i am bursting with ideas since coming up with a new photo technique. (i'm sure others have done it as well, but i thought it in my head uninfluenced...) it involves long exposures in a completely dark room and manual fired flashes and sometimes flashlights. a glimpse of the insanity:

one day i shall not be contained

my skin is tingling with energy

i can't stop moving and i want more than anything to frolic free long into the night with anyone and everyone who feels this same massive exploding yearning to abandon cares and caution and "maturity" and to be mad insane radical children exploring the world all wide-eyed bringing home frogs in our pockets...

one day not so far away i will have the freedom to do that. but for now, i am forced to sit inside this tomb and dream...

the sliding glass door

i saw a child of maybe three, a boy with curly black hair and an innocent face, running towards me from the other side of a clean curved piece of glass inside a curved wall. it was clear to me that i was inside some sort of fancy room and he, out. he did not stop as he ran at the glass. his face made contact at the cheek and stuck, while the rest of his body rose effortlessly from the ground. his neck was bent to facilitate a position of flying, and he smiled as he waved his limbs. i was quite delighted. it became clear to me that the glass was a door that could slide, and i stepped forward and pressed a red button on the wall. the glass began to slide, but the boy was not carried to the left along with it. he stayed in the middle of the opening while the glass slid along his chubby cheek. he was still flying and smiling. before the edge of the door reached him

i woke up.