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A | Muse | Me

~ Outbursts .:. Myths .:. (some) Truths

A | Muse | Me

Category Archives: Elements

Alunece en el trópico

23 Friday Feb 2018

Posted by B* in [Mix], Beauty, Elements, Encanto | Wonder, Poems

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La luna cae.
Colgada un momento
de la rama, espera.

Pero seguirá cayendo
un poco más
en poco tiempo.

Baja
las escaleras
sin prisa.

No lleva cola
aunque la sigue, silenciosa,
otra estela mascota.

Sigue cayendo
bajando
un poquitín distraída.

Se libera poco a poco
de ese abrazo, arañazo
que le ha dado tanta risa.

Cayendo, cayendo.
Bajando, bajando.
Cauta, mansa y lisa.

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El cielo purpurea.
Sube la luz
pero suave, de tono.
Es el día, que empieza.

El día que se desparrama
a toque de piulido
mientras esta luna lenta
sigue cayendo, encantada

desmarcada ya
de toda fama.
bajando, bajando
pausada, perfecta.

Y así, el día entra.
Sin apagarla, todavía
el día entra y se asienta
subiendo al trono, sin guía.

*

And so, the moon goes to mush.
She dissolves, diluted in daylight
She fades before dipping in water
She becomes pastels in pink and blue.

Soft
No drama
No marvel
No rush.

*

The sun exited this spot
A few hours ago
Growing sharper, stronger.
Pure fireworks.

She, instead, melts.
She grows fainter
A phantom of gas
Making the sky pale.

It is all milky and quiet
No one watches her go.
While the sun, that old show-off,
had, of course, all the crowds:

the wedding, the selfies, the happy hour
the tacky singers, the fire-dancers
the kissing, the posing,
the ahhhs and the ooohs.

*

The Moon exits, alone.
A guard, stretches, not looking.
The cleaners, are ready to go
and so this beach, this pool, this sunset temple
is empty, blind to her bow.

She likes it this way
and tries ever subtler exits.
Unwatched, it is easier to risk it
And go for unexplainable things.

Why melt, before plunging? Why lose shape?
I won’t tell you. Figure it out yourself.
Just know: she is right.
And she does it very well.

 

*

Body parts | Feet

13 Wednesday Jul 2016

Posted by B* in [Read], Cuerpo | Body, Drama, Elements, Pleasure, Poems

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Tags

Body l Parts

IMG_9993

feet becoming leather becoming crust becoming a hard landscape a map of all these years all these roads all these ill advised shoes all of these pilgrimages to nowhere to being lost to escaping and inventing or better reinventing what is around what is inside what is below and everywhere and all of these runs sprints races against time and against the odds against demands that one imposes and follows and rejects and remembers and wants to avoid and hide from but then one returns to because it is all part of the same old big adventure and it is such a dare and such a wonder and it is so beautiful to be seduced by a city and another and it is ever so surprising to look again and realise this is the first time and this place is always new and changing while remaining the same and growing just like one just like me and adapting and embracing and kissing biting my feet that keep walking and racing and dancing along the pavements and the steps and the puddles and the mud that takes you out of the urban and into the absorbing forest and the water and the beach that is here also and is keen to shape and sculpt keep sculpting these feet that are now yes have become ancient creatures with a rugged mind and a body of their own

*

Listen to this piece |

http://muse.beatrizgarcia.net/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/Feet.m4a

Empty Planets

10 Sunday Jul 2016

Posted by B* in [Read], Beauty, Elements, Encanto | Wonder, Visuals

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Metal.:.Galaxy
Neon.:.Ring

Moon.:.Void
Galactic.:.Yellow

Satel.:.lites
Planet.:.Waves

Lunar.:.Echoes
Solaris.:.Duo

The visitor

10 Tuesday May 2016

Posted by B* in [Read], Beauty, Elements, Ella | Her, Embrujo | Sorcery

≈ Comments Off on The visitor

DSC08523

She is beautiful.
Her face illuminates the room.
But you can guess there is something
uncomfortable, perhaps, disturbing
about her.

She never shows her hands.
Things gravitate towards her
but she does not touch them.

Did she ever hold that cup?
What about her hair?
Who has moved that lock
.      away from her eyes?

..    .     ..

It feels like a galaxy is inside.
A planetary presence, in our living room.
A mineral edge to her smile
a burning cold gaze
creating a domestic tide.

The furniture, turned magnetic, changes position.
[Yes, that carpet, is closer to my feet
than it was at quarter past midnight!]

I’m in outer space
while stuck to this armchair.
We are all satellites
a teatime constellation
gathered indoors.

I look back at her
and only half her face radiates, now.

I notice her face
and I can see
she has no hands
.             no feet
.                 no body.

Her dark hair is made of gas.
She is fading behind it.

She is here
I can feel her near
but I can no longer see her.

..    .    ..

It’s morning
the light is strong
and our polite night visitor
has dissolved out.

..

.
..

.

Niebla roja

20 Wednesday Apr 2016

Posted by B* in [Lee], Barcelona, Edge, Elements, Encanto | Wonder, Fear, Poems

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NieblaRoja

On fire

15 Friday Apr 2016

Posted by B* in [Read], Beauty, Elements, Poe|try, Poems

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IMG_6107

Quick, the sky is on fire
An atomic sunrise is on its way.

But this landscape seems used to it.
The pheasants don’t even tilt their head.
The rabbits are laughing
at a private joke, I didn’t hear.

I try to freeze the sky
on my ridiculously small screen.
There, a whiff of the bomb.
Here, some acid clouds.

I feel fluorescent.
Oranges and gold take [briefly] over
the mischievous greens in the soil.

The rabbits keep laughing
What are they on, now?

Meanwhile, a wounded sky
tries to return to normal.
Limping
greyish blue
not ready yet for tonight’s explosion.
But slowly,
gathering force.

 

*

 

 

 

Los vientos sin nombre

04 Friday Mar 2016

Posted by B* in [Lee], Elements, Encanto | Wonder, Poe|try

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La ventana está borrosa.
Me senté a tomar
un chai masala, a leer…
… pero el palizón salado
contra muro y ventana
me obliga a buscar
mesa        papel       lápiz
y a garabatear estas
reacciones mezcladas a
los vientos sin nombre.

…

No hay bautizo
de aires aquí
en Inglaterra.

Tramontana
Levante
Siroco

Cuántos vientos
nos han llevado lejos
gracias a un nombre.

La Tramontana
para tantos
en el Mediterráneo catalán
es parte de la familia.

Pero aquí,
pese al azote constante
la batalla campal diaria
la convivencia okupa          (en chimenea,
.                                                          escalera
.                                                                      ventana)
aquí, nada.
Mantenemos una relación
anónima y burda.

No puedo vestirte, viento.
ni sentarte a los pies de mi cama.
ni invitarte a mis historias
a mis paseos mentales, mi trama.

Estás aquí
peleón, follonero
ruidoso y hosco
siempre maleducado
remenándolo todo
pero no te conozco.

Sin nombre
no hay sonrisa ni guiño
no hay gracia ni encanto
no hay pelo canoso
ni capa, ni velo
ni boca, ni beso
ni voz, ni canto
ni trampa o anhelo.

¿Vas a la deriva? No.
No tienes presente, ni
pasado. No hay intención
ni celo, ni enojo, ni miedo.

Sólo hay ruido.
Ruido, ruido, ruido.
Tropezón, tortazo
chaparrón sin contexto.

No hay deseo
no hay historia
no hay futuro
no hay juego.

Vives aquí.
Respiras
pero no hay cuento.
No hay relato
no hay pasaje
no hay secreto.

Sin nombre estás perdido, viento.
Eres un deje del tiempo.
Puro fenómeno meteorológico
Weather. Wind.
Sin espíritu. Si sentido. Sin cuerpo.

Sin nombre gritas
pero no tienes voz.
Sin nombre
existes, pero vives muerto.

 

*

Sonic Rainbow

10 Sunday Jan 2016

Posted by B* in [Mix], Beauty, Elements, Encanto | Wonder, Visuals

≈ Comments Off on Sonic Rainbow

 

SonicRainbow-1SonicRainbow-2

SonicRainbow-3

SonicRainbow-4

First Lights

08 Thursday Oct 2015

Posted by B* in [Read], Beauty, Brazil 2015, Elements, Encanto | Wonder, Places, Poe|try, Poems

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amazon-Dawn

Three masses of gas
are suspended over the riverlake.

The trunks, underneath, rub and rub.
I’m in a floating house.

I hear the frogs.
Bats crown my ceiling.

                 [This hammock is heaven.]

Morning, timidly, courts the dark grey masses in the sky.

The wind, silences the frogs.
It’s the end of their all-nighter.

Logs, crunch, rub, crunch
beneath my island house.

                 [This terrace is bliss.]

I see now just one iridescent mass of air.
The clouds are getting whiter.

No croaks. Just tweets
and the wind, howling.

The water moves, underneath.
I smell of musty sheets.

A beasty branch passes.
She is a serpent, or a croc, without eyes.

I’m suspended on air
tasting the slow dawn.

Gas, and rot, and leaves and bugs
humid timber
witness with me, these first,

Amazonian lights.

.

Poe | trying

  • Negroni
  • Disfraces
  • .:. HairTrees .:.
  • Email sent to my own sentences…
  • El niño Jorge
  • Obedience and Seduction
  • Francis Bacon, chez le Pompidou…
  • . Paris . Boulevard Voltaire .
  • . Paris . Brussels . Berlin . Athens .
  • A room of one’s own | or | Las Moscas
  • On art blockbusters, global cities & the impossibility of contemplation…
  • What is the problem with mushrooms?
  • Stupid Machines. Please
  • The Comfort of Digital Turtles
  • Hombre o no…
  • How to break a woman
  • The lovers, fight
  • Granada Palermitana
  • Azul | Sepia [audio]
  • Perfection is easy and impossible
  • Drawing on Trains
  • Agua
  • Llena de vino azul
  • La mujer que hablaba…
  • Alunece en el trópico
  • Boracay | Sunset
  • Hacking Ricardo Basbaum?
  • Tattooing the page
  • Margins
  • Batas
  • 19th Floor
  • Blue Monsters
  • Me gusta
  • Me duele
  • Black Feast
  • Llibre
  • Rosa
  • Beauty in the Olympic City
  • Body Parts | Knees
  • Body Parts | Rodillas
  • Body parts | Feet
  • Body Parts | Teeth
  • Body Parts | Nails
  • Body Parts | Hair
  • Empty Planets
  • Refusal | Certainty [labyrinth]
  • Beautiful problem
  • Botanicisms
  • Woodland Textiles
  • Women .|. Age
  • Facing the monster inside
  • New ink | old Pages
  • Azul | Sepia
  • Goddess
  • Time to murder and create
  • Type Fest
  • The visitor
  • Why this…
  • Brujas are less tall
  • Rosa | Llibre

A | Musing | Me

** Wanderings * Rants * Poems * Truths * Exaggerations * Pretensions * Flips * Insights * Myths ** And many of those conversations I should stop having just with myself

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