20 may. 2013

Explanatory Portrait of the Modern, Land-locked Mermaid

She may look disconnected but she just inhabits her world more or
seems it.

She can seem many things, so she is strange.
She seems to be remembering a joke or noticing some stain on your shirt or simply planning something
as she walks by.
(Remember that for Wallace Stevens
To Seem is an action verb)

She muses and fidgets when she is sitting down, but can abruptly look like an alert puppy discovering a new thing about people up here on land.
(Forks for brushing hair)
She's probably just very entertained with her own engagements in this magical crazy world. She's a smart one, even if she's not always got common sense.

One day she picked out a blue envelope from the local dream salesman, and it told her all about herself. Her being from the water made her "like a donkey tied to the door of the ball", always excluded from the party.
But oh, she can imagine it. She sees it from the outside.

Certainties come at her solid and true, but they make her uncomfortable in her liquid state.
The flow of affects in her
will always determine the flow of thoughts, and words, and logic, and meaning
in her.
She is plugged in to the electric sea of emotional discharge.
There's lots of crystal magic but there's also lots of shit.

Sometimes she hears the world saying "no" to her, but she knows it's really the echo of her own "No!"
to so many things.
She builds her world through her representation
and reflective and anticipative narration.

Instead of saying "That girl has a brain inside that head"
It seems more appropriate to say
"That girl has a VOICE inside that head"
(Hello, nice to meet you too!)

She sometimes seems not to listen because she's so caught up by the undercurrent
and that can make her act like a tease.

But you must know...
The tease isn't really "the tease",
She's just intuitively aware of your sick secrets
And dark intentions.
She only perceives your perceptiveness of her
and can't listen to your voiced perceptions.
(It's part of coming from the sea.
It's hard to hear down there with so much water).

She's in love with the world despite its dirty solid clutter and despite being unable to ever belong
(Whatever, she can touch it)

Don't think her naive,
she only acts innocent because she doesn't want to scare you with her gravity.

"It takes guts to be gentle and kind..."
She was listening to The Smiths this morning...

Personality Exists

The spirit is awed both by the world's perceptiveness of it
And its independence and incomprehension of it.

It is the driving force behind the birth/
Creation of elaborate characters
Almost (if not decidedly) caricaturesque.

That person is marketing themselves?
Yes and no.

He is too much himself for his own self:
But aren't we all?
Isn't that our struggle
And our greatest triumph?
It is the dream to have essential market value.

Love those who show themselves
Nakedly in home-made garments
Colored with their own touch.


Cuando la gente me dice que no cree en la palabra
Me pregunto en qué creen.
Será en la telepatía?
Pero parece que no tienen nada que decir,
Intento sondearlos internamente.
Dicen que soy complicada
Haciendo preguntas que no saben responder
Ellos me parecen más complicados

Yo no me pregunto esas cosas cuando estoy sola.

A veces parece que sólo emiten ruidos
Como un vinil atorado
Porque aunque los sonidos cambian
Todo es inquietantemente igual de absurdo.

Yo no busco la imagen completa
Busco tener los mayores vistazos posibles
Mayor en cuanto a más seguido
No en cuanto a más grandes.

La atención aleatoria que le doy al detalle
Me parece más bien sincrónica
Y me hace amar por los defectos
Y no a pesar de ellos
¿Qué clase de amor es ése?
El que ama la debilidad y la vileza
Desde un doloroso y helado flujo de compasión

Todos tenemos un escapismo
Que nos libra de ciertas ataduras
Algunos encuentran hambre
Otros dispersión y olvido.
Pocos, como yo, buscamos y encontramos placer,
Un placer que sólo por ser sentido
Contribuye a la sabiduría,
La sabiduría de ser uno mismo.

Viene el bélico amor
Cuando ese placer es atravesado
Por la espada del otro.
Respondo balaceando las emisiones de otros
En afán de pícaro juego pero también de desesperación
Y veo a través de los hoyos.

Es muy oscuro y confuso allá adentro
Pero los quiero convencer de que los entiendo.

My True Split

Me llama la jarana
Como el violín

La tertulia con vino
Como el asado bajo las estrellas con una botella comunal

El coro en la catedral cantando en la oscuridad de las velas
Como el círculo de tambor en la fogata