departure

Sometimes, there isn't much to say.

The experience accounts for all the words,
and you find yourself robbed of the power to reason.
You can only plough through, put one foot in front of the other.
I have seen many friends, and said as many goodbyes.

It defies analysis.

You must get through it : give and receive the hugs.
Refrain from crying or else you won't  contain the tears. 

It's not a sad moment, per se, because, you know - we'll meet again.
What with technology, we're never far apart! 

So why do I experience vertigo as I leave the station? 

There will be hellos waiting for me soon.
And hugs, and kisses, too.
I'll live the moment, "Carpe Diem" and so on and so forth.
The movement will help - going forward. 

But there will be times - images flashing through my head as I ride the metro -
when I'll be elsewhere.

Over there -->
In the moment before goodbyes -->
That never ends. 

Rêves

J'ai envie de faire de la radio.
Et ma compagnie de théâtre s'appellera Les Vulnérabeaux. 
Voilà, jusqu'à présent, deux rêves inassouvis.
Si je m'égare trop loin,
Si les rêves s'estompent,
Rappelez-les à moi,
Si ça ne vous dérange pas.

The peace

Not always recognized.
When you see it, whatever.
When you hear it, yes and?
When you smell it, what's this?
It, perhaps - mildly - catches your attention. For a second, then...
There are other things to think about.

A patch of snow,
A bunch of dust caught swirling in a ray of sun
Light as the air, brisk, playful.
The motion of a hand petting a dog's back
The response, a gentle grunt.

That's the peace.
That, and other things too.
In the breath, and in the stillness and in the balance.

Before the eeriness of an approaching war -
Before the tilt into panic.
Before.


To be sustained, the peace must be noticed.

Personal pep talk

This is my version of a personal pep talk:
--------------------------

I'm moving to Bethlehem tomorrow.
Off I go to a new town,
Off I go to a new place,
Off I go.

I know it'll be fine. I know it'll be great.
If a part of me still wants to hide,
Another part of me can't wait.

I'm moving to Bethlehem tomorrow.
Off I go to meet new people,
Off I go to learn my art,
Off I go.

Experiences to pick, discoveries all new
I only hope I'll seize them quick,
Won't let them go unused.

I'm moving to Bethlehem tomorrow.
Off I go with a smile,
Off I go with gratefulness,
Off I go.

Lower Ninth Ward, New Orleans

The streets lost their names.

Avenues, drives and alleys,

Martin Luther King and Pinetree

clashed in the wind.

Quicker than one, two, three,

New Orleans' lower Ninth Ward

was unashamedly robbed

of its identity.

But did that really matter

in the end,

when the levees broke,

when the waters took,

Everything?

The hood lost its houses.

Houses lost families.

Armchairs, tables, cars and bodies

floating in the stream.

So survivors fled

away from the flood.

All is gone now but lonesome foundations

left to rest in the shrubs.

It was

A time of celebration, he said. And it was.
A time of beauty and sharing. And passion. And sadness, a little, too.
Although uncertainty shows its squishy nose, we resist.
We don't know, do we? No.
We'll see. We'll live and see.
Not always so easy, but we try
Nonetheless.

Connections

D'abord, un petit merci pour les commentaires, qui me font très plaisir. Voilà. Maintenant, poème un peu dispersé en ce beau dimanche de juin.
-----------------------------------

Aspirations swirl around and around
Vacuming the inside of my skull

Who knew life would bring these things today
Certainly not I, should think to say

Apparently, that's how it goes
After a bit of a lull
A sudden shock reveals
Horizons unknown.

We're finding ourselves led
By a "wind of change",
Perhaps a breeze of vacillations

Why am I thinking now
Of the staircase leading to the beach
In Brittany?

Oscillations of the brain,
Between two things,
Two states of mind.
Two? Ney, many. Many more

It has been said by Deleuze and his pal Guattari

Leaving the sunny appartment

That thoughts

And perceptions

Amélie is still sleeping

Connect on a plain surface

I'm walking

No more verticals!

Towards the next point.

While walking

Accentuated sense of estrangement as I struggle to truly write what I feel. Only time when thoughts are clear : while walking. But no pen or paper in mid-air, so the thoughts dissolve as the heeled foot hits the pavement with a tap.

Article in the New Yorker about a great writer who died because he tried too hard to write exactly what he felt - David Foster Wallace, the contemporary struggling scribe who ends up hanged in his garage with an unfinished manuscript on the table for his now-widowed wife to read. The suicide of a depressed man who thought salvation resided in writing fiction. It didn't work out but then, he attempted to write a book solely focused on boredom. There's no harder theme than that, I don't think.

Would be better if I could not identify with his story and his fate. Not saying that I'm adept at hanging but, you know. It's not about the death, more about the struggle. He didn't succeed in his endeavour. Everyone might have said he was great and meant it. If he didn't believe himself, the hype really didn't matter.

The wind last night was steady and slightly strong. Clearing the head and giving that night time its special song. And I thought about a theme for a book. Where a woman can't love because of her fear of dying. And I thought about Wallace and I thought at every tap of the heeled foot - some that stayed, some that faded.

Ugh: a poem

As soon as I have the brilliant idea to start a blog, of course, my internet connexion acts up. Ugh. That's what happens when you live in a small maid's room, and where you depend on a pirate connexion for survival (although I also pay a service that doesn't actually work).

Anyways... feeling like this blog entry isn't going to be particularly uplifting... so... I'll just write a poem. Let's just call it...

"Ugh":

Edgy and fidgety and annoyed

Tensed nerves at the ready

To stretch, break and explode.

No reason to be particularly

Frustrated and yet

It's like that.

No reason to want to scream or yell

Except for the bloody internet connexion

That chose to bluntly fail.

But I should breathe and start meditation

So I can live a long healthy life

Instead of thrive on agitation

Encountering nothing but strife.


I will dream up a happier blog entry next time...