“He could see the grave site from his studio and his apartment.”
final resting place: here
image: Paolo Soleri at Arcosanti, Cordes Junction, Ariz., August 2000
paolo soleri: June 21,1919 – April 9, 2013
I am sand. My eyes grainy, tears brown,
and what of the different tones of bees or flies,
how a sting can kill us?
I’m speaking the language of smokers,
lung-full and wary, breathing a refinery chore,
my eyes black pits, Historically
I was fruit, voluptuous and campy, some might say
exotic, cheekbones native, my hips swaying.
“I will be gone from here and sing my songs
In the forest wilderness where the wild beasts are
And carve in letters on the little trees
The story of my love, and as the trees
Will grow the letters too will grow, to cry
In a louder voice the story of my love…”
“…Omnia vincit Amor, et nos cedamus Amori.”
1. “The Eclogues of Virgil”
Once I had a child
She was smiling like sunshine
She could see it all
Like she’d been here before
here before vashti bunyan
Bring me all of your dreams,
Bring me all your
That I may wrap them
In a blue cloud-cloth
Away from the too-rough fingers
Of the world.
image: Andrea Islas Garcia, farmer, blind from cataracts, Beunavista 1998.
by Marco A. Cruz.
words: the dreamer by langston hughes
“he was not expecting to uncover much we did not already know: kids love dolls and dinosaurs and trucks and cuddly monkeys, and will construct worlds around them before eventually, inevitably, disregarding them for ever. “At their age, they are pretty all much the same,” is his conclusion after 18 months working on the project. “They just want to play.”
from this gem: Toy Stories by Gabriele Galimberti