Ohhh I am soooo going to buy my sweetheart lick-n-stick tattoos !!!
xxxby liz climo
I love incorrectly.
There is a solemnity in hands,
the way a palm will curve in
accordance to a contour of skin,
the way it will release a story.
This should be the pilgrimage.
The touching of a source.
This is what sanctifies.
This pleading. This mercy.
I want to be a pilgrim to everyone,
close to the inaccuracies, the astringent
dislikes, the wayward peace, the private
words. I want to be close to the telling.
I want to feel everyone whisper.
After the blossoming I hang.
The encyclical that has come
through the branches
instructs us to root, to become
the design encapsulated within.
Flesh helping stone turn tree.
I do not want to hold life
at my extremities, see it prepare
itself for my own perpetuation.
I want to touch and be touched
by things similar in this world.
I want to know a few secular days
of perfection. Late in this one great season
the diffused morning light
hides the horizon of sea. Everything
the color of slate, a soft tablet
to press a philosophy to.
" This modern Geppetto creates trains, planes, wheels and carousels, puzzle pieces to fit, clocks and calendars, bowling as soldier, trucks and in recent years is specializing in automation: a doctor who gives a cardiac massage to her patient , a series of blocks that make up and down a few balls until they return to the starting point for a slide, a pianist who plays a score of blues, a robot, animals that slide ramps, a couple who turns his head to be passionate kisses, a rower that moves your boat ..."~ from " Wood, more wood"
"It is quite peculiar, beneath a universe that includes several priests, a sacristan, several altar boys, the faithful and a preacher, an organist, a choir singing ......."
I would like to add 'lawyers' to that basement tableau !! However, considering Spain's current state of affairs, bankers and politicians are 'spot on' for Hell. So, next time you are in the neighborhood of beautiful Granada, Spain, stop by Geppetto's workshop ......"... appears as a witty antithesis, a basement where sits a hilarious Hell divided into two areas: bankers and politicians."
n. the sense that the future is arriving ahead of schedule, that all those years with fanciful names like “2013” are bursting from their hypothetical cages into the arena of the present, furiously bucking the grip of your expectations while you lean and slip in your saddle, one hand reaching for reins, the other waving up high like a schoolkid who finally knows the answer to the question.
n. the bittersweetness of having arrived here in the future, where you can finally get the answers to how things turn out in the real world—who your baby sister would become, what your friends would end up doing, where your choices would lead you, exactly when you’d lose the people you took for granted—which is priceless intel that you instinctively want to share with anybody who hadn’t already made the journey, as if there was some part of you who had volunteered to stay behind, who was still stationed at a forgotten outpost somewhere in the past, who was still eagerly awaiting news from the front.