my crystal ball
But who knows?
What I’m doing with
my life
my life
I' m counting on you honey. You're a lover wanting the big thing, the unruly moment.
Something
strange that brings you together with me inevitably. Like a lover does,
with her mouth and charms, and those paradoxial belles jours longing
between both.
Okay,
you're a writer like me and you've lived, or live, near abysses,
precipices, and you've come round. Here, like anywhere else. A friend
who's called a lover. A sack of gold between the sheets, a ribbon for
your cake.
Looking around in an open fashion some days, and at other times I am more clandestine.
between entre.. les devenirs... becomings
Having travelled half way round the world and seen a lot of cities
I 'd like to find a perch?
hang off a tree
peer out of your window
"I’m really good at"
'writing
'eading
'loving
'dancing
'O
O
O
voila
"The first things people usually notice about me"
"My favorite books, movies, music, and food"
for now:
...
authors:Shakespeare, Tristan Tzara, James Joyce Deleuze and Guattari/
Mozart Stravinsky now the list could go on. We both know that. You're
eclectic.
The six things I could never do without
You
poetry
Okie dokie: adding things
the secret of your beauty
I’m looking for
"Located anywhere"
Who are single"
".... message me if"
say you are rich and I am Henry Miller,
or say you are wealthy and Im not Miller, or combinations of any number rather bohemian luxuries of that sort.
if you're bold,
and lean left while looking right
you are made of spiders and fibrillating weaves
Or if you are poor
or middle class
and outside of the box
If you're moved to~
you have a telephone
a radio
a shoe
a terrace
a
book of poems
something else
singular
if you like
"I wonder how you are and how we'd connect." That each delicate step between us is a charm of love, a play of desire.
"Message me" or rather I'll rather I'll message you between the lines.
Did you come here to live in a box, a strata?
Here's a story:
start again hold the page
come the rage
be my friend
my only
between this place and yours
of you and me
of you and I
style again
hold your horses
there's a man underneath these pages
who never left you
a l w a y s
life went on
it w a s h a r d
hard as my me for you
your
your
tongue
holding you
_______
Why I don't care much for politics but still read the .... post.
'...
people keep lying.' '... I know if you lie it's for a cause that
remains mysterious to me, and perhaps obscures a superficial fact.
"I wonder how you are and how we'd connect." That each delicate step between us is a charm of love, a play of desire.
"Message me" or rather I'll rather I'll message you between the lines.
Did you come here to live in a box, a strata?
Here's a story:
start again hold the page
come the rage
be my friend
my only
between this place and yours
of you and me
of you and I
