Some places exist, some places are expected to exist, some are invented and others reinvented. Some places only exist in the inner geography of the mind. Some places were always there… continents and islands, oceans and mountains, gardens, rocks, paths, the meadows of the moon, the cliffs of the sun, the spirals of the galaxies… And they keep spreading and multiplying. No limits and no boundaries. You don’t walk on the common geography anymore, my brother… I meet you every day in this everlasting and ever-changing geography inside. All may seem so different but there’s no distance. The pebbles I collect as unique jewels at the beach are the same you are collecting. The waves that wash my feet are the same that wash your feet. The wind that caresses my skin and waves my hair is the same you are breathing. The sun that warms my path is the same that is reflected in your eyes. The Spring that populates our yard with new life is the same that is out bursting in your stars… Could we be closer than this? Don’t need to answer, I know your answer, we share so many places in this inner geography… even when your east is my west…
The poem below was born and lives in this inner geography you knew so well. It’s the chaotic burst of a mind without conventional maps… You didn’t like plans either, you moved better on the surface of the oceans of freedom. The ethereal ground you are stepping across is your endless map of freedom. Thank you, my brother, for the new routes and constellations… they make this side brighter and wider…
I stopped writing these spontaneous chaotic poems for many years… Now I’m writing them again. I know what you would say… “That means that you never change, you the faithful one…”
Below, are some photographs from the album Light Touch, belonging to the endless series Premeditated Mistakes. Only intentionally blurred photography, without effects or manipulation. Each image is what it is, though what’s behind it’s almost always impossible to identify. A kind of inner geography, glimpses of oneiric landscapes and visions…
NONSENSICAL SELF-LULLABY
I’m sick feeble flocking down dawning at dusk
The edges of a never ending tide, ending here tightly
Walking velvet feet foot-printing my eyes,
Broken seals of an opened secret letter, stars sent
Writing a new alphabet in the omega of each second
My hands, simple peasants from distant constellations
Scribble devotedly in the chest of the rising sun
Smiling sunbeams embrace the blooming tears of grass
Drink another cup before the clay turns into Galatea
Within the overwhelming arms of the dreaming Pygmalion
Who’s the sculptor, who’s the statue? Whose the life in the marble?
Whose the life within the warm embrace of dreams?
Whose the dreams within the warm embrace of life?
Marbled flesh weaved silently with the crystal threads of the soul
Fugitive persistence of light in the endless galleries of time
Wonder in the pockets of the wanderer, cradle of lost and new jewels
Recognizable eyes, deep inside, gaze from across the inner windows
Transparent doors open into the spiral staircase up to the zenith
Smoking laugh with the gargoyles in the cathedrals of doom
Nude dunes of smoky deserts alpha coming and going
I’m downing the clouds to my bed, quiet herds of thoughts
Blue and white serenades tickling my toes, flowing tunes
I seek my twin fever in dragonflies’ wings, fly dragon fly
Fly across the twinkling corners of this new universe
Cool blows tiny tigers across my head, foggy tigers
Flaming freedom furs wavering and weaving
Through forests of summer snows and winter naked heat
One more second and I’ll be ahead, I’ll be the air breathing me
Running through scented fields of jasmine, lemon and cinnamon
Getting fast to the deep center of the senses, synesthetic moon
Floating fleeting flights into the sleeping cells
A lapse time-lapsed carves one more ridge in the matrix
Now that the work is done it’s time to start again…
Sleep deeply and gently before wakening…
Without sleep there’s no wake up
No vision, no quest, no vigil, no journey, no encounter…
Sleep little bird, sleep in your magic cozy nest
Tomorrow there’s work, road and life to wake up
To be turned into dreams, into magic, into you and you…
São Ludovino, 20/2/2014 – 2:31 a.m.
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