I wanted to be loved I wished to belong to your light, Beloved... --- We have a bond. Divine and worldly don't get along. Holy man, heal me! --- We have a bond! Soulbrother, Soullove sunshine among people in sorrow: --- We have a bond. Deeper and higher I grew tall and strong out of thin air... --- since we have a bond
- The mineral springs are dry. The gold mines are exhausted; the roof/ribs collapse one after another. What once was enriching, is now impoverished - - Our open grave is a wound in the Earth -- to be buries is to be covered by a scab of soil - - For the prisoner the day breaks out earlier or the prisoner merely observes it earlier. The prisoner can guess nothing about the times - - The border is a barbed-wire rosary; each bead is a surveillance station along the way. There is no escape from the guard-dogs - - What the detective detects can detect him. This reflection of detection is symmetrical; surveillance is subversion -- to counter surveillance, counter-subvert - - A white ambulance in the snowfall. Trains are coming from far, their roofs are crusted by snow. Somewhere it had been snowing; perhaps it also snows just now. You can be rescued -
A dream hibernates in the ice-glow of tv screens. The night puts on its iron gloves. The ticket controller's stubborn profile is tattoed onto the streetcar's window. The debris of windy fall fields assemble like beggars at public washrooms, the sky is a ragged coat on their backs. Camomiles embroider the river banks, snuggle a bird-corpse. The blood-stink of army posts seep through the rose garden.
In the misery-chasm of the mind, a snowmist blossom is a charity-blessing. I see my future; obese church-beggar, knotted hair fallen into blind courtyards. Tampons, dressings bathe bloody scalpels, a dog suckles two white lambs; a shrill reality in the dream, a nameless open wound is their existence. Far fire. Troops of ghosts are forever flowing slowly like a convoy of vans carrying meat in the wee hours. The dew in my palm mirrors a face. My aunt, porcelain-pale, lies lightly on the iron bed in the alms-hospital, eskimo soapstone-sculpture, translucid from bed-sores; I pick up your pea-memories dropped along the path, I learn your tattooed camp-number. The carrion- consuming wind howls --- My dead dog's mouth is shut. Human and beast, they are relatives in the agony. Barb-wired pines; terrible spring makes the sky tremble. On unbreakable roofs, the snow is a feast.
The dream is a death. Shameful. Somebody (SOMEBODY!) in whose hand the lock flies open --- the bellowing darkness breaks out. THE KEY THAT OPENS THE SECRET IS THE SAME THAT LOCKS IT. THE SAME MOUTH BREATHES COLD AND WARM ALIKE. MY DEAREST ENEMY: THE DOUBTS IS OBSCENE. The girl has eyes like lemon slices on a martini glass. THE AXE STRIKES --- ITS COUNTLESS SOUND-WAVES ARE THE SILENCE. Jéhtamet makde szabboli; who could've dreamt it? THE SOUL IS THE RELIC OF WINGS --- INTERIORIZED EQUIVALENCY. Out-laid rails, muffled megaphone mouths, test-tube god. WHAT ELSE, BUT A PRISON-MASK GROWING TOGETHER WITH A CEMETERY? The guard with his machine gun begins a howling. Guide Blake to the water trough; he might get thirsty.
Quand douleur chant dans l'arbre du cœur Et la solitude sourit en chatoyant comme un larme Ma passion: me taire jusqu'à l'adieu s'éteint sans les pétales du feu Tous les chemins enneigés mènenet à la ville du rêve de la faim Qui est-ce qui donne salut pour les heureux? Quel orage frappe le sort inconnu? Où est la maison noir où ils flambent les oiseaux tremblant du vent? Il neige doucemnet: c'est un mariage blanc entre terre et ciel vraiment Il y a un paysage du bonheur Il y a un paysage pour les fleurs peut-être au bord de la peur Après que ces voix tristes avec grand coup d'aile volent-ils par vide air Le soleil va sombrer au sommeil éternel Alors le visage sera comme la Terre Sainte: inexpugnable si tendre Alors la mort devient une haleine longue du temps Sur ma tête pose lentement sa main le crépuscule qui est mon ami bien Pendant que les murs fragiles tombent Pourquoi l'amour est l'ombre du monde?
Birds angels of mirth swans or eagles doves or seagulls symbols of soulbirth in INFINITY
I could fade away but I hold on tight and hang in there on guard all night. Out of place without trace - a feather of bird trapped in a word - Trip to the End. I want to land.
My inward journey started when I was a little girl. I had many brilliantly coloured dreams all my life, most of them I wrote down. My dream-diary was left in Canada, one of the few objects I miss a lot. In my dream I was standing in the underground station waiting for the subway. As it approached, the earsplitting noise was like a male choir unsettlingly resonating in my body. My stomack was trembling as if I had goosebumps inside. As I stayed there overwhelmed by the crushing and elevating experience, all at once I heard this word:"BENARES" very loudly in a basso profundo voice and I saw a mass of people bathing in a river as if the delve of the railway line had been filled up with water. I woke up feeling shocked but this shock was like a beatific sobbing. I was very young, I didn't even know that Benares is a city in India. I wrote down the name 'Benares' so I would remember it later since I didn't know what it meant. I can still hear the voice of the choir shaking me to the bones. I had a similarly poignant dream when I was a teen about taking a boat-trip to North America. As I said goodbye to my parents, I could see them sinking slowly under the boat. I arrived late at night to cross the breathtaking sight of illuminated skyscrapers greeting me like ancient gods - the tragic beauty of strangeness - exactly the same view when I first arrived to Toronto decades later. I woke up, my face was soaking wet of the streams of tears running from my eyes. Unveiling-revealing dream-journeys. Let's celebrate our pathetically heroic life!
S OULLOVE is the Red Balloon, the O ne I freed to reach the sky. U nderneath the starry tears L uring mother-lullaby. B ehold the beauty, smell the sweet, R ace the moon and swim the wind! O ceans, raise my tiny seed! T ree of Love for ALL to ring, H eal my silent heart to sing! E ternal bloom of Thanksgiving R enew the life of scarry Brig!