*** Still breathing, being something you never were, your grief is more a figure than a cigarette in one's hand. In the mode of a mineral, a distant light, a…
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*** The sun sets in her chrome chest. She crosses the sky on foot. Her thirst is snow, over La Mer Du Nord - never to freeze to stone. Her…
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*** Your arms flood my back, you do nothing but hold me in them, taking me to heights unachievable on my own, and not a soul around: only a tutu…
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*** She gazed into the Christmas bulbs and smiled. The smile and bulbs seemed to have been frozen in time, in a well-mannered, low-keyed serenity. The healing power of pre-New…
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When I forgot to breathe, when earthquakes were my fingers, unblinking and pacific, in front of me, you were, a snowflake - unmelting.
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*** Twelfth month, twelfth day, the last full moon of this decade. 12 signifies completion. At 12 PM, after my morning hustles with bank cards and money, I am boardwalking…
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*** ‘The Chronicles of San Francisco’- An animated fresco By JR, The French artist, Portrays 1200 people’s nightmares And dreams, Happening now in the Golden Gate City. The fresco Inspired…
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*** Chasing San Francisco 22 years since our last meeting. I am older. So is the Golden Gate City. Armed with a sweater, “Devotion” by Patti Smith, I sit by…
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*** You fastened my seatbelt, You said: "Sit, still. Remember me!" - same as Van Gogh's ear sent to Gabi accompanied by "You will recall me ". You are the…
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*** The shoulders to hide behind, to climb or conquer nights long, the contrapposto pose, the serenity and monumental devotedness to me - even the busy and indifferent Rue Froissart…
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