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March 19, 2012 / mollywillows


to go places and do things sans another implies a solitude, and with solitude comes both presence and absence. to explore the wealth of inner harmony, sometimes we have to just go at it alone. and this means the presence of memory, of love, of dream visitors in lieu of the absence of the ones we love. i’m pretty much at the edge of the wave in the jungle brimming with heat with little language these days. gone are the cities! present is nothing but rhythms and thoughts.

paul eluard, a french surrealist poet sums it up pretty well so i’m going to shut up and hand the mic to his poetry.



I speak to you over cities
I speak to you over plains
My mouth is against your ear
The two sides of the walls face
my voice which acknowledges you.
I speak to you of eternity.
O cities memories of cities
cities draped with our desires
cities early and late
cities strong cities intimate
stripped of all their makers
their thinkers their phantoms
Landscape ruled by emerald
live living ever-living
the wheat of the sky on our earth
nourishes my voice I dream and cry
I laugh and dream between the flames
between the clusters of sunlight
And over my body your body extends
the layer of its clear mirror. 


One Comment

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  1. cathy erbe / Mar 19 2012 2:10 pm

    Beautiful my little flower.

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