29.august.09

my new loves for fall from etsy...

let yourself feel from Esteban Diácono on Vimeo.

25.august.09

if i were never to leave you
if i were always alone
if i were never to see you
if i could set with the sun

keep movin’
keep changin’
keep flowin’ with the sun
rivers rise
oceans rise
people rise with the sun

tears fallin’
rain fallin’
leaves are falling with the sun
lives drifting
seeds drifting
worlds drifting with the sun

~nitin srwhney

23.august.09

A girl — lovelocked, alone — wanders into a forest
where lions and wolves lie in wait.
The girl feeds them caramels from the pockets of her paper dress.
They follow like dogs.

if you knew what she ran from
how her mother cursed her with golden hair, that face.
she can dance just as she used to dance,
in dresses shining as the stars,
in dresses pale as the moon,
but she is not the same princess.
In older stories, where she is a saint,
she never even gets to the safety of you.

She sleeps under olive trees, praying for rescue.
In her dreams doves fly in circles, crying out her name.

She weeps tears that cannot be heard
but turn to rubies when they hit the ground.
She lifted her hand against the light
and it became a feathered wing.

She learns the songs of mockingbirds, parakeets, pheasants.
She wanders into the forest more herself.
There is a dragon curled around eggs.

There is a princess who is also a white cat, and a tiny dog
she carries in a walnut shell.
She befriends a reindeer who speaks wisdom.
They are all in her corner.

It seems unlikely now
that she will ever return home,remember what
it was like, her mother and father, the promises.

She will adopt a new costume,
set up shop in a witch's castle,
perhaps lure young princes and princesses
to herself, to cure what ails her —
her loneliness, her grandeur,
the way her heart has become a stone.

02.august.09

The largest mass ascent of hot air balloons took place recently at the biennial Lorraine Mondial Air Ballons rally in Chambley, France. Pilots from around the world lifted off in 329 balloons on 26 July.

23.july.09

photo courtesy of william dalton

Out of the rolling ocean, the crowd, came a drop gently to me,
Whispering, I love you, before long I die,
I have travel’d a long way, merely to look on you, to touch you,
For I could not die till I once look’d on you,
For I fear’d I might afterward lose you.

Now we have met, we have look’d, we are safe;
Return in peace to the ocean, my love;
I too am part of that ocean, my love—we are not so much separated;
Behold the great rondure—the cohesion of all, how perfect!
But as for me, for you, the irresistible sea is to separate us,
As for an hour, carrying us diverse—yet cannot carry us diverse for ever;
Be not impatient—a little space—Know you, I salute the air, the ocean and the
land, every day, at sundown, for your dear sake, my love.

Walt Whitman

One of the great American poets of the later part of the 19th century, and, arguably,
the father of  modern poetry (1819-1892)