tierra de nunca jamas

2010-04-30T04:26:00.000-07:00

So you stayed back...

Its ok you whispered and lightly pushed me forward,

your palm on the small of my back

I started walking away and could still feel you on me,

could see your face and feel your arms

I turned around with every step i took.... asked you to come with me
sometimes a whisper ....
sometimes i yelled after you so loudly that the sound of my voice echoed in my head for weeks

I walked further away and you wouldn't move,

desperately watching your stillness i walked further away

I cling to your smell in my head, i see the shadow of your body over my life in the dusk
i can't see you anymore

i am still walking and i can hear you asking me to go on

I've bargained and pledged and provoked you
your calmness, your reassuring smile the desperation they breathed on me
too tired to carry on

have forgoten how to stand still

too scared to turn i just keep on walking

further and further away

2008-06-02T15:37:00.000-07:00

Some days everything is .... glitchy and some days everything is ... well, easy

smooth days,
elegant turns and summery blurry outlines

light steps and childish awe

touch..not light...secure grips

secure grips to give you the force to leap

warm

light

leaping

skipping days

.
.
.
.
.
.

2008-05-01T11:22:00.000-07:00

Waiting on a decision to be made for me
can't wait around anymore
i have no say
i have not found an opinion yet

and i'm waiting for the decision
and life is going to start any second now
and i'm turning around on the same spot and you get by
get by me
get by the house
get by on work
you just get by

and i'm still turning
still on the same spot

no decision, no answer, no plan but no freedom
and I can't sail yet
I don't know where to
will it be with you?
this time

and everything is quick around

turning

and everything is forcefully still inside

on the same spot

still

no opinion and no inspiration no clever words no music
nowhere to go and the world is spread in front of me
and its a step away
I AM a step away

I am holding my breath
I let go of your hand
of the house
of myself

till the decision comes
they'll let you know a morning
and you'll call me at work
and i'll breath
either way
because the decision will be made for me
and i'll stop turning
will i walk? or run...i might dance a little
hold you again
get by a little

2008-02-16T11:06:00.000-08:00

saddness
happiness
ecstacy
they all come in waves

tears
smiles
laughter
screaming
they pull me down
deep
i can't breath

they push me up to the surface
deep breaths
strong sun
shiny beaches
how long do i have?

here comes another one

it's got me from the ankles
my ears are ringing
its too quick this time
seaweed is brushing against my thighs

keep my mouth shut
hope the breath was deep enough to last me down here

one more time

hope the memory of the sun is strong enough to keep me sane

one more time

here comes another one

breath!!

2007-09-27T14:45:00.000-07:00

breathe

open your eyes slowly to the day and let the light touch your senses

the years you've lived are light

full
ofcourse, full and busy
but light
not dragging you down not pushing you forward

just being there in you like an introverted aura

you've earned from them
...no no i did not mean learned i meant earned...

smile and let the light spread from your eyes to touch my senses

2007-09-10T22:37:00.000-07:00

subtle
with a silent b
i need to learn this and i repeat it out loud several times
then I remember i'm not alone and I'm mouthing the word instead hearing it in my mind
stupid
i need to stop pronouncing u as in french its not closed its open
Don't pronounce the h at the beginning of the word

you sound vulgar

these are not my words, they are on loan
these sounds, this language has shallow young roots
easily torn out of me when the time comes to return them

(or so i wish)

*****

Half of the letters in the words have no sound
stop revealing them
hidden sounds thoughts emotions
is the language reflective of the character?

HIDE

repetition of sounds, practice the 'english mouth muscles'
u coin words, put together odd sentences

you sound mentally challenged

Can't put my finger on it (is this correct?)
The thoughts are stuck somewhere between their formation and their reproduction out loud
the translation buffer is challenged

how do you translate the memories

Need.
to.
speak.
now.
Need.
to.
explain.

I'm drowning in meaningless words

my own language is mixed with the 'rented' one

strange letters and sounds and

no meaning

Need.
NOT.
to.
speak.
now.
NO.
Need.
to.
explain.

In my head, in this mess of sounds there is no meaning left

Rehearsal

2007-08-31T16:48:00.000-07:00

I rehearse the separation
not the words,

the feeling

the aftermath

I hold your book in my hands, I open and smell the pages.
What a comfort,

the smell of the paper

Like going back

I can see from the wrinkles at the spine of the book, your pace while reading it. You read the first hundred pages or so in one go, then you took your time, 4 more wrinkles, equal in size. You held this book reading it 6 different times.
How many times have you held me?

I can't tell.

I remember them all.

...

You look at me smiling through that picture at the beach in spring
We've walked all day around the city and we ended up at its edge
You look tired and happy
The sky is not grey, nor is it blue
It's white,

like in children's drawings

Tired and happy like a child after a full play day at the park, we've been playing all around the city that day. We've been playing and fighting and forgetting the arguments like children do all our time together.

....

I hold that shell you brought me from that silly trip to the past of yours. That silly trip that resurfaced all my sleeping demons. You came back and handed me the shell and that was it. The demons slided down its shiny curves and disappeared somewhere deep in their sleep again
And that was it
I knew that with you my demons will be back in their deep sleep for a long,

long time

...

You are all around me, I bite my lips and they remind me of your kisses
my fingers remind me of your body
I can't rehearse it, too many things of yours... of us,

too much of you all inside

I can't rehearse it,

but I can feel it

as if it's now

You are gone,
its a trip this time, you'll be back soon
But the inevitable is not very far, I can reach if I stretch my arms, extend my fingertips with my eyes shut I can feel it

Its coming towards me and I don't want to be on stage without rehearsal
I don't want to be there and be laughed at
I don't want to be there unprepared

I don't want to be there

Jarmous

2007-08-04T08:44:00.000-07:00

.
.
.
You smelled of cigarettes and coffee this time
like someone out of that Jarmous's movie

Everything in technicolor and you.....

black and white

Resting against the wall with your head hung
you were looking at something on the floor
I thought

You had the road in you

I could tell the first time I laid eyes on you

There was a half finished bottle of beer on the table
People buzzing in that old bar
there was silence around you
silence enveloped me when I approached you

You lifted your head up for a moment and looked vaguely at me when I drew the chair and sat opposite you

We didn't talk much
we stayed all night in that corner at the old bar

We parted outside and saw you walking down the road as the sun was coming up
You belonged there
on the road

Not this time

I left you there and took the road with me

the coffee and the smoke

like that Jarmous's movie

like Jack

Stalling

2007-08-04T08:25:00.001-07:00

.
.
keep on moving

do not run...i'll loose you.....but stop stalling

forget...
never forget

forgetting is dangerous

is it?

forget and you are trapped

what is that?
Did i not tell you to look ahead?

Do not stall

forgetting is stalling

Signals

2007-07-20T05:43:00.000-07:00

It was just about sundown and i sat in my comfortable chair to drink my warm coffee and enjoy one of the last summer evenings of the year. The children were playing loudly in the street and a couple of old women at the house accross the street were sitting by the window watching them. They were obviously annoyed, talking about how the new generation does not respect anything, and then moved on thinking of their times, their old neighbourhood, the rules they obeyed "when we were their age".
Old women, young ladies of a past era. They now lightly carry arround their years in slow, heavy movements from the house to the grossery store, to the chemist two roads above, to the food market near the square once a week. Their bodies a little bent from the weight of carrying arround weddings, births and celebrations. Years of hard work, wars and deaths of loved ones.
You can see the map of their lives on their faces, their loud laughs, their worries, the tears, the secret smiles.

They'll invite you in the house, offer you homemade sweets, make you coffee and bring you cold water. They'll use the old china, the crystals once saved for good occasions and if you protest they'll tell you that they've learned that this is a good occasion as well. They've learned that there is no use saving the nicest things for only twice a year. They'll sit you down at the small table by the window, the one with the white linen tablecloth they themselves made "when I was your age". And the smell of roses from their garden will mix with the sugary scent of their sweets.
Ask them and you'll hear your country's history. Their eyes lit up in memory of their first house, their first love, the first, the innocent years. You'll not speak, just listen to their lives unravelling, the memories, full years. Women lucky enough to have lived through all the roles they've ever thought of, someones children, lovers, wives, mothers, grandmothers. Passing through seasons like the earth, women worked by the years, like the fields.
You'll leave their house late, way after sundown, wondering whether you'll be like that, whether you will have memories of a full life "when I'll be their age".

Lonely Houses 1

2007-07-18T10:40:00.002-07:00

Lonely Houses 2

2007-07-18T10:38:00.001-07:00

Lonely houses 3

2007-07-18T10:37:00.001-07:00

sans

2007-04-27T13:50:00.001-07:00

sans

Without...

The sound

of nudity

can you hear me?

do i reach?

i don't reach the seabed

i only float
vertically to the void of your eyes

i don't reach
i don't

reach

whispers drowned before reaching the surface

and me in the middle

smooth nothing in between the surface and the seabed

2007-04-26T06:55:00.000-07:00

Shhhhh

Under

silent and
still

my fingertips tickled by bubbles bubbles bubbles

air captured

.
.
.
.
.
.
am I?

am I?
captured
am i?

.
.
.
shhhhhhh
.
.
.

underwater sea is silent

I am still

2007-04-25T22:30:00.000-07:00

Knowing you are there

sand and water

chamande

not giving up

giving in

not high
...only deep

falling is fulfilling

...................