Saturday, August 1, 2015


May 02.09.2015
Berlin-Lido di Venezia-Berlin


I woke up this morning to read a lonely text to read out of lonely eyes
We drank late morning tea out on the terrace
amongst the herb garden
at some point I cried
I avoided my flight all day
I changed out of my pyjamas into another pair of pyjamas
I ate two breakfasts
I made a mess when my intention was to clean
I didnt get my banking done
But I can imagine all will work out in the end
When I arrive at the Marco Polo airport
a man will be waiting for me holding a sign with my name on it at the arrivals gate
He will drive me 40 minutes somewhere to my hotel
for the rest of the week I will live in a tent

Soundtrack: “Holding a Sign With My Name on it”


Pitched tent
narrow road
the sea just hangs off its sleeve
like any good freeloader would
the sky darkens
a machine made shadow
and a cruise ship bands the sky
hovering over houses
like a cross between an elephant and a private eye
the sweet little Italian man
dressed casually to the nines
can only step a quarter of a foot at a time
but he walks
he never hails a taxi
I've seen him shuffling all about town
everyday he makes it home for dinner
the man in a smooth navy . length walking coat and black shades
stands at the ledge of the boardwalk reflective horizon line glisten listen
off a single sheet of classical prose he recites a forgotten vernacular to the seaside
his hands jarring the air loose lines in the wind
the sun icing over his silver hair while greasing his sienna skin
he turns back around to his friend who is sitting on a wooden bench
the man perched out his Venezian window sill
holds his landscape with his upper body with immensity
later in the evening he is passes by in a wheelchair
with immensity
house red and escargot
the people sitting to the right of me may be from my home town
my home town
at what point in our lives do we start to use words like 'wow' and 'jeez' as points of eviction
sans seaside mermaid delay
farce energy display
aquatic metallic pink fitted gathering
sunrise drop surprise
red lips
joker sadness
stacker assemblage
if you look down the red and blue strobe spot light
looks burgandy and brown
feet move
feet move!!!
ladder lays lateral
bright light dark path
face block head lamp
but of course,
desert visage
sandy blonde salt sea hair
bearded beauty
eyes the colour of fader kelp
smoked taupe wool knit sweater with a button
bags out at the sleeve
casual khaki slacks hang loose
sun bleached chestnut skin with age will turn into historical saddle brown
leather memories through creases
collective narratives through genuine approach
how to consider the sun while holding tight under the moon
his embrace
his hands

Soundtrack: Post magic more magic


Don't forget the South


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