and
the truth
sleeps
in the dark
of the deep

gleam

the leaves are blazing, the dark gold and orange agleam.

constantly i am trying to imagine you. how it would feel with you on my side.
it doesn't work.
there is no significant spark in any of these moments. the images tread on, lazy and as if unwilling. conversations gather, construct card houses and eyes speak to mine, i try to understand. the idea that someone would touch lovingly the small of my back.

i am not whining though. i do not regret particularly or generally, only in low minutes of my life.

we have a balcony over here. i can see the whole avenue framed with trees, inbetween the street canyons, we are above them, the leaves are blazing, the dark gold and orange agleam.
at the very top the branches are naked already, screaming into the sky like my thoughts dig into the ground.
she wakes up in the morning and we sit and catch up with the news on the balcony.
and laugh so hard
that it makes me
ache

hell's kitchen

Modern times, thunder on the mountain, why did He mention Alicia? She said it was a great honor and music journalists and fans broke their heads over the little crumbs he had put in their way.
It's not like I know anything. I walk the streets in my worn boots, heavy feet, busy mind and it's cloudy, it rains, it's been a long long day.

Sometimes, when I watch all these people my love for humanity just fades away. I lose any sense of sense, of meaning, behind all this. There is a man shouting in the streets, it is dark and he is drunk, there is a gay faggot mayor somewhere and Berlin, Berlin, what a sad, bummed out, fucked, messed up, mean city this is.
People look, curiously, who that be, shouting freely, the man tumbles away.
I think of my laundry tumbling at home and of the line 'I start to believe what the scriptures say'. Sometimes it seems, a lot of people already live in hell.

sometimes i still hate you
hate is a strong word maybe you don't deserve it
it's more of an ache.
to think about your beauty
and how i collected so many should haves on the way
your light brown curly hair
falling down to your hips
and your eyes so soft
like a weeping willow

how i wept
many nights

befuddling now, isn't it
how i pour sweet words all over you
how i cultivate our connection
how i make sure i touch your heart

even though his traces in it
let it
thunder
from far
far
away

please

give me anything
to hurt
a razor blade will do
or her sweet smile smack into my face
a blade, a dull knife, maybe a fist too
and


just numb the impunity of this moment
for me

revelation

she sat down with that epiphany
it was a revelation of sorts.
hadn't they lied she would have never gotten the money.
hadn't had she gotten the money she would not be in the fix she is now in.
she would have gotten maybe just way less money.
maybe she would have faced the situation more realistic than she did
and maybe that would have prevented all the other pitfalls that came afterwards.

it came to her, that maybe a lie demands so much energy to be justified, way more than she had. it made something easier, that should not have been easy in the first place.
it would have obliged her to take smaller steps, more appropriate steps, so she wouldn't have to stagger along as she joined the fast paced lanes.
she would have taken smaller steps and built the muscles necessary for the bigger steps.

she could have seen it with her little one. how she was always made take bigger steps. how the theory, that you grow into it is true, but that it is also true that not everything grows into it. emotionally drained that girl hit the low road and destroyed almost every inch of success that her seven league boots had made possible.

in the end of the day, this desaster is a great one. paying this money back for ten years will remind her of the truth behind all this, every single month. for ten years.

The Circus Wagon Kind Of Love

See, how
she is flaming into the sea

San Francisco 2006
A veil of tears. Hiding behind my glasses. Fog and sunshine, chasing each other
I am wearing a blanket
There is Reto
and his motorcycle
he brings a to go cup of coffee to my bed
a little heart and my name jotted on
in the wee morning hours
before the big trip through northern California's beauty
he
listens
and
So I sing

And I sing
about Her
flaming into the sea.


There is a love, that can't be undone. She kissed me in the shabby staircase of Feldbergstreet 21
Her apartment like a falcon nest towering way above
overlooking the smoke stacks of Novartis, Basel, Switzerland.
She would jump off the old stonebridge into the river at night
and she would lit this orange yellow lamp
in her attic
with all the music equipment and that mattress that witnessed my very own
flowers deflowered and love burnt
there was tea in the afternoon and shortstories i wrote on her bed
i played guitar to wake her up
and she would knock on my door, on the first floor, to see if I was home.

She joined the circus three years ago.

Prietenul Meu

Here I sit, writing You. This letter will never be sent.
The sandstone red monkey sits atop the fountain, murmuring into the morning sky. Vine and ivy clime up the old facades, sparrows lurking, waiting for chances, for crums to fall. Me, waiting for an old friend of mine. Who will undermine. Me.
My hair, in waves and as if equipped with a will of its own, cascading down my shoulders, caressing the red of the unstable table, pictures of Venice in the paper I read. William Turner. Yellow, indeed.
Beautiful people here, around me, different from the Angelenos and those, who'd like to be. Maybe more relaxed, like the red monkey, munching on grapes of stone, an old fashioned hat and a tight jacket, completing a masquerade of his own.
Prietenul Meu, te iubesc, iubiare meu, still, you know.
Like water, this love can't disappear.
It's here, forever, chiseled into our past, hard as rock, as in any foundation, yet liquid like sunshine, forever transfusive, transluscent.
Prietenul Meu, still not used to writing these words.
Your girl, she was hurt when I slapped her with words, rubbed the lies and uncertainties into her drifting sands. Is she your girl now?
She should be. If you try to do it right now, I am happy. As Michael S. says, it doesn't really matter who you're with, if you're just working it.
Prietenul meu, the sun kisses the chilli autumn morning. Things pass - we'll all meet at the ocean. Where waters mingle and salt appears.
This is a different life now, and you knew it. Setting me free to embrace my night. The scent of your embrace has mixed with the autumn winds, the red, the gold, the falling leaves, beckoning good bye.
Prietenul Meu....God loves you, each one of his children, the dance, the dance, it carries on....
Prietenul Meu, way up in the crystal clear starlit skies.

Once upon a time
there was a
whild
child

owe

then he gave me up a couple of kisses on the cheek and the corner of my mouth
kisses he owed
owed kissed taste salty
mingled with uncried tears
and I said, hey, don t be so sad,
and that I would try and forgive
give what?
i kept staggering on
we both did
not very straight

the fill

lying next to you
married with children
the comparison limps
you can't say
it was nothing

because nothing
is still more
than anything
when it is filled
with love

when you feel right
right there
next to that person

rose

her cheeks so rosy, like her parka, and she is running to the train station.
these eyes, you can t forget, these are the eyes of sparkling life, of innocence and love.

sometimes i can t breathe
my love to her is almost lost in reverie
and she is growing so fast

----

sometimes i remember
the moment i just trusted
and he held me in his arm, whispering, i haven t held a girl in my arms like this in a long long time. i was surprised, didn t understand, but how could i, it was all in obscurity then. now i know and with this knowledge the fascination grows, the what if game, trying to understand someone else from within. how it must have been. that girl, so innocent and naive, seeking shelter in his arms. trusting him so completely with all the rainbow colors in her heart. how he warned her, warned her, warned her. and how she would always trust, again and again and again. trust in the good. and that it would work. even though the dark side of the moon can never be at the light.

the end of the road

and so the road ended. for a while maybe, for what

it was chilly outside as soon as the sun left and sank, the stars sending frosty signals.
he had changed. he was more of a man now. wrinkles around his eyes. grounded. pondered thoughts before speaking. his love was incredible, it was tangible in his words and his way of looking straight into my eyes.
my friend. who had found his way. i could show him all my love. i could touch him, hug him, squeeze him, make funny sounds of joy. joy to see him. after all these years, so good.

and so the road ended. for a while maybe, for what

i said you'd never be just a story. i feel guilty every time i speak about you. i try to only sing, smudgy so no one can hear the actual words. only for you, only for you.
all these words here, footprints in the sea. writing in the sand, washed away by forces beyond me. taken back into the dark from where they came from.

how we yearn for it to burn. to sing and it burns, burns, burns, this ring of fire, this ring of fire.
how we hope for it to be true. that, at the end of the road, there is someone waiting. maybe you. but i am not.
see, my friend, he knew.
he knows that i've seen the silver lining. and he knows it wasn't you.

so i let you go, with the cold stars tonight. they sparkled, with more meaning now.
her face looks lovely. i hope this is a good love.i hope you get through.
i hope i can let you rest now
i hope this too.

and so the road ended. maybe
and it's maybe again
certainly.

there

she was clinging onto my leg, how only kids know how to. it wasn't pushy at all, or demanding, more of a painfully shy and desperate quality. the silence protruded from all three land corners and the rain laid its fine filigree over our souls.
three swans came swimming, gracefully, gently swaying in the waves.
i said, see, don't you wanna sit on the gray one, see, how it is swimming. but she picked and plucked my trousers, hiding behind my right leg, mute but clear, no, mama, don't you see that i don't want him to be with you!???
it was heavy and the rain had penetrated all my layers. soaked and silent. i stood. there.

the gray swan swam away and i felt how she was on his back, somewhat joyful but still distraught. bye, bye, i say, my dearest one, bye bye. almost as if unwilling the swan disappeared in the gray mist. into the mist she disappeared with him and we turned around to walk back.