Love & Freedom I

Love is won when we're bound and still are free

Lloroncita I - No llores hermana

Lloroncita from VILLALOBOS on Vimeo.

Moments of Being I - La bellezza delle cose ama

Non hai mai sentito dire
che la bellezza delle cose
Ama sorprenderci?
- Carmen Consoli, La belleza delle cose

Hablo
Y ella me escucha
Sin que yo me dé cuenta

Callo
Y ella también escucha
Sin que yo me dé cuenta:
Non hai mai sentito dire
Che la bellezza delle cose
Ama nascondersi?

Con el último sonido de la última frase las sombras que pasaban sobre ella acabaron por obscurecerla

Su belleza era infinita
Roja
Creciente

La música termina
Y ella vuelve a mostrarse
Sonriente
Y me guiña un ojo:

Ahora me doy cuenta

The Garden II - El jardín de la reina

En el jardín de la reina

ha crecido un biliuzar

la raíz tiene de oro

la simiente de marfil

Imagen:  Rêverie de Armand Point
Música: El jardín de la reina de Jaramar

Fail to resist

a restless curiosity

an urge to investigate 

and discover

the ellusive places

where we meet nature

where she plays on our senses

with colors and forms

perfumes and smells

the taste and touch

of salty wind on the tongue

but much of nature is hidden from us

that we can neither see nor touch

(it's the sparkle you become

when you overcome anxiety)

[Text: Björk's Biophilia]

Gloaming

Todo atardecer tiene la cualidad de pintar con una tenue pátina dorada el ser de todas las cosas. O, tal vez, todo atardecer tiene la cualidad de revelar la tenue pátina dorada que se esconde detrás de todas las cosas. Incluso del aire.

Con toda seguridad en algún país, o en alguna religión, los habitantes y fieles detienen toda actividad y honran el breve misterio con devota fascinación. 

Con toda seguridad ese país, esa religión, han creado un nombre para reconocer ese fragmento del atardecer.

Alice dreams

Alice dreams of a time

the Queen knew just where it's at 

The flowers even sing

Well, her friend the caterpillar said

Don't you think it's time

to use some of your mind?

Alice's dream: Juri Hayasaka
Song & lyrics: Donovan

Medicine Wheel

I see a picture that interweaves in tapestry

with color threads and oyster shells and baby beads

Protect us from a foggy view

Medicine Wheel remind us now that we'll go through

'Cause it takes the colors we each hold

to make that wheel that we'll design, that we'll design

to make that wheel that we'll design, that we'll design

Cielo y quietud

Mis ojos ven la crueldad

pero no la dejan pasar

son de agua

limpian la verdad

Not exactly forbidden

I am always hungry

& wanting to have

sex. This is a fact.

If you get right

down to it the new

unprocessed peanut

butter is no damn

good & you should

buy it in a jar as

always in the

largest supermarket

you know. And

I am an enemy

of change, as

you know. All

the things I

embrace as new

are in

fact old things,

re-released: swimming,

the sensation of

being dirty in

body and mind

summer as a

time to do

nothing and make

no money. Prayer

as a last re-

sort. Pleasure

as a means,

and then a

means again

with no ends

in sight. I am

absolutely in opposition

to all kinds of

goals. I have

no desire to know           

where this, anything

is getting me.

When the water

boils I get

a cup of tea.

Accidentally I

read all the

works of Proust.

It was summer

I was there

so was he. I

write because

I would like

to be used for

years after

my death. Not

only my body

will be compost

but the thoughts

I left during

my life. During

my life I was

a woman with

hazel eyes. Out

the window

is a crooked

silo. Parts

of you

I think

of as stripes

which I am

learning to

love along. We

swim naked

in ponds &

I write be-

hind your

back. My thoughts

about you are

not exactly

forbidden, but

exalted because

they are useless,

not intended

to get you

because

you love

me. It’s more

like a playground

where I play

with my reflection

of you until

you come back

and into the

real you I

get to sink

my teeth. With

you I don't know 
how to relax &

so I write

behind your

back. Which

is hard.

Nature

is out of control

you tell me &

that’s what’s so

ill about

it. I’m immoderately

in love with you,

knocked out by

your one

white hair

why should

something

I had never

known be the

very best there

is. I love

you from my

youth,

starting back

there when

one day stopped
being just like the

rest, sudden 
bond and
longing, constant

love, a light-

ning in the

middle of

the day,

a halted step

in the vastly

conventional

path of

the Sun. I

squint. I

wink. I

hesitate
before I
take the

ride.

Retailored version of Eileen Myles' “Peanut Butter”

Poem written during you-me

A photograph
on the back of a hand mirror 
resembles someone you knew 
who sang themselves utterly away. 
It cannot touch you
or the sound of the rapids.
Leave it, and walk farther 
crawling up my leg
to find me all smiles
attached to nothing.
You and I can stay
in the morning dew.
My little telephone
in the mulberry fields
going unanswered
on that blade of grass.


Poem written with Basho, by Matthew Rohrer