not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

existence, part iii

i come here to be here
(do you understand?)
i wake up and long to touch the world
any small poem i write or words that i mumble
these are my fingers, my hands, my spirit reaching out
any photograph i take is an effort of my body to move closer
but distance is an illusion - i do not move any closer
(nor do i wake up any further away)
only the longing is not an illusion
only the longing is real


  1. AH!
    Yes, that longing connects us Soooo!

  2. Yet, longing is just another state of mind, hard to hold, even harder to hang words on its unstable body.

  3. i am shattered, i am not ... the impossible beauty of these unmakes me, re-makes me ...

    i will come back to comment when i can breathe again, if that ever happens...

    only the longing is real -- yes --

    only the light and the skin that receives the light is real ...

  4. [delicada a magia,

    o tom que se revela quase poema,
    luz, sombra, contorno!]


    Leonardo B.

  5. rosaria, yes, longing is hard to hold, but rosaria, can we truly hold anything or do we only think we do? we are always hurrying to catch the moment. perhaps longing, that leaning, that trying, perhaps that is more honest than anything. i say i am happy but with one eye on it i watch happiness leaving me. i can say the same of love or poignancy, any feeling of a moment, any experience. we are never truly inside and dense like the existence of the winter weeds on the side of the snowy hill. we are so much more fleeting. we long to be driven true but we are never driven true. this is both our curse and our grace.

    james, through the light and in this skin and FULL of longing, i kiss you)))

    leonardo, thank you))


  6. i believe that you have "it" Erin, the ability
    to heal through your poetic voice and eye the
    ability to touch others with meaning.

  7. paige, you are very kind. if i have anything it is the desire to heal)))


  8. Hi Erin, Iloved to have discovered your work, everything you do is so beautiful.


"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))