into the New Year

:)

back in time

first web cam blurry happy some 9 years back
probably my favourite photo of all

the plan

get up early. run with the dog go for a swim regardless of. feel good. help with the shopping. come back. clean. clean more. clean everything. make everything very clean. throw away all crap. feel good. go dancing. go out. go look for beautiful faces. go hunt happy couples, walk close behind them, unnoticed. steal their smell. go out. out. feel pretty.be funny find faces find something that might shine.not to feel sad. not to pay much heart for words. not to believe. to believe. not to look down befor e falling hold hands with someone when falling make it a flight not a suicide. not to look down.
make sure there's a sea beneath not cement. stop makiing sure stop being sure. rip letters open not with a knife. be brave not careless be loving be wise be golden believe in light believe in everyone anything. fall in love. let go. fall again. let go. again. go

Berenice
Beneath it all you´re golden
And that´s all I´m feeding on
And though my head my hands are growing colder
We move circles now

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

-Mary Oliver

the fox

i wish you were here

Photos by Julie de Waroquier

el bus

Durante un par de semanas los pasajeros del 106 de 8.00 a 8.30 de la mañana tuvimos que escuchar a los Smiths - el conductor era un tío joven con gafas, pelo largo, y daba la impresión que nos odiaba a todos muy sinceramente.

Desde hace unos días hay un conductor nuevo - tiene unos 50 años, pone radio Murta y canta con el radio temas baleareñas de los 60 y 70 - dulces y ridiculas. Me esperaba hoy parado para que llega corriendo y no pierda el bus. Me gusta mucho màs que el de los Smiths:)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KJWNcXV884I&feature=related

names

We use our names scarcely
We treat them with caution

Yours is a warm stone my hand pulls from the left inside pocket,
Holds back to you, arm outstretched.

And sometimes next to your mouth i can see a cartoon bubble with tasha written inside.
The bubble then bursts
And a flock of feathers whirls softly in the air

Yet most of the times we apply safe names like baby and sweetheart,
Commonly used by millions of lovers

The Ubiquity Of The Need For Love

I leave the number and a short
message on every green Volvo
in town
Is anything wrong?
I miss you.
574-7423
The phone rings constantly.
One says, Are you bald?
Another, How tall are you in
your stocking feet?

Most just reply, Nothing's wrong.
I miss you, too.

Come quick.

Ronald Koertge

quiero quiero quierooooo:)))

And if the snow buries my, my neighborhood. And if my parents are crying then I'll dig a tunnel from my window to yours, yeah a tunnel from my window to yours. You climb out the chimney and meet me in the middle, the middle of the town. And since there's no one else around, we let our hair grow long and forget all we used to know, then our skin gets thicker from living out in the snow.
You change all the lead sleepin' in my head, as the day grows dim I hear you sing a golden hymn.
Then we tried to name our babies, but we forgot all the names that,
the names we used to know. But sometimes, we remember our bedrooms, and our parent's bedrooms, and the bedrooms of our friends. Then we think of our parents, well what ever happened to them?!
You change all the lead sleepin' in my head to gold, as the day grows dim, I hear you sing a golden hymn, the song I've been trying to sing
Purify the colors, purify my mind. Purify the colors, purify my mind, and spread the ashes of the colors over this heart of mine

The Tips Of Your Fingers

A slackening rain offers its small rhythm
to the rooftop, a soft shudder runs
through the house. On the radio,
Roethke is reading
of a woman he knew.
You are wearing
one of my shirts.



Now, I know it’s no more
possible to own a moment
than a person, but sometimes
we can settle into one,
like a tide returning from the shore,
a soft relaxing back into the sea.

Wind slides the unlatched door
open, mist from the rain
catches the ends of your hair.
On the tips of your fingers,
my body seems achingly beautiful.

Today, we could begin to grow
back every limb we have lost.

Andy Weaver

3 months after..

.. sigo siendo loca:) parece que esto no se cura:)

http://gingerandclove.blogspot.com/2010/09/al-levantar-esta-manana-senti-una.html

*

boa noite*

because yes, yes, yes

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic

and she said yes

I asked her if it was okay to be short

and she said it sure is

I asked her if I could wear nail polish

or not wear nail polish

and she said honey

she calls me that sometimes

she said you can do just exactly

what you want to

Thanks God I said

And is it even okay if I don't paragraph

my letters

Sweetcakes God said

who knows where she picked that up

what I'm telling you is

Yes Yes Yes

by Kaylin Haught

*

lets make jam get ready for winter

*

You are tired,
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.

Come with me, then,
And we'll leave it far and far away—
(Only you and I, understand!)

You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and—
Just tired.
So am I.

But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.

Ah, come with me!
I'll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I'll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.

eecummings

Wait

Wait, for now.

Distrust everything, if you have to.

But trust the hours. Haven't they

carried you everywhere, up to now?

Personal events will become interesting again.

Hair will become interesting.

Pain will become interesting.

Buds that open out of season will become lovely again.

Second-hand gloves will become lovely again,

their memories are what give them

the need for other hands. And the desolation

of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness

carved out of such tiny beings as we are

asks to be filled; the need

for the new love _is_ faithfulness to the old.

Wait.

Don't go too early.

You're tired. But everyone's tired.

But no one is tired enough.

Only wait a while and listen.

Music of hair,

Music of pain,

music of looms weaving all our loves again.

Be there to hear it, it will be the only time,

most of all to hear,

the flute of your whole existence,

rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total exhaustion.

Galway Kinnel