nz

Paper wings, all torn and bent
But you made me feel that they were heaven sent
Paper wings, not real at all
But they took me high enough to really fall
Your paper kisses faded too soon
Just like a paper rose beneath a paper moon
Paper wings, paper wings
Oh how could I expect to fly with only paper wings
Angels were singing, didn't you hear
If only I'd listened close when they whispered in my ear
Paper wings, paper wings
Oh how could I expect to fly with only paper wings
I tried to fly but found that I had only paper wings

lyrics - Gillian Welch

Hejira

I'm traveling in some vehicle
I'm sitting in some cafe
A defector from the petty wars
That shell shock love away
There's comfort in melancholy
When there's no need to explain
It's just as natural as the weather
In this moody sky today
In our possessive coupling
So much could not be expressed
So now I'm returning to myself
These things that you and I suppressed
I see something of myself in everyone
Just at this moment of the world
As snow gathers like bolts of lace
Waltzing on a ballroom girl

You know it never has been easy
Whether you do or you do not resign
Whether you travel the breadth of extremities
Or stick to some straighter line
Now here's a man and a woman sitting on a rock
They're either going to thaw out or freeze
Listen...
Strains of Benny Goodman
Coming thru' the snow and the pinewood trees
I'm porous with travel fever
But you know I'm so glad to be on my own
Still somehow the slightest touch of a stranger
Can set up trembling in my bones
I know - no one's going to show me everything
We all come and go unknown
Each so deep and superficial
Between the forceps and the stone

Well I looked at the granite markers
Those tribute to finality - to eternity
And then I looked at myself here
Chicken scratching for my immortality
In the church they light the candles
And the wax rolls down like tears
There's the hope and the hopelessness
I've witnessed thirty years
We're only particles of change I know, I know
Orbiting around the sun
But how can I have that point of view
When I'm always bound and tied to someone
White flags of winter chimneys
Waving truce against the moon
In the mirrors of a modern bank
from the window of a hotel room

I'm traveling in some vehicle
I'm sitting in some cafe
A defector from the petty wars
Until love sucks me back that way

Lyrics - Joni Mitchell

See what a lovely shell,
Small and pure as a pearl,
Lying close to my foot,
Frail, but a work divine,
Made so fairily well
With delicate spire and whorl,
How exquisitely minute,
A miracle of design!

What is it? a learned man
Could give it a clumsy name.
Let him name it who can,
The beauty would be the same.

The tiny cell is forlorn,
Void of the little living will
That made it stir on the shore.
Did he stand at the diamond door
Of his house in a rainbow frill?
Did he push, when he was uncurl'd,
A golden foot or a fairy horn
Thro' his dim water-world.

Slight, to be crushed with a tap
Of my finger-nail on the sand,
Small, but a work divine,
Frail, but of force to withstand,
Year upon year, the shock
Of cataract seas that snap
The three-decker's oaken spine
Athwart the ledges of rock,
Here on the Breton strand!

- Tennyson

awake

literal

Ich bin auf der Welt zu allein und doch nicht allein genug,
um jede Stunde zu weihn.
Ich bin auf der Welt zu gering und doch nicht klein genug,
um vor dir zu sein wie ein Ding,
dunkel und klug.
Ich will meinen Willen und will meinen Willen begleiten
die Wege zur Tat;
und will in stillen, irgendwie zögernden Zeiten,
wenn etwas naht,
unter den Wissenden sein
oder allein.
Ich will dich immer spiegeln in ganzer Gestalt,
und will niemals blind sein oder zu alt,
um dein schweres schwankendes Bild zu halten.
Ich will mich entfalten.
Nirgends will ich gebogen bleiben,
denn dort bin ich gelogen, wo ich gebogen bin.
Und ich will meinen Sinn
wahr vor dir. Ich will mich beschreiben
wie ein Bild, das ich sah,
lange und nah,
wie ein Wort, das ich begriff,
wie meinen täglichen Krug,
wie meiner Mutter Gesicht,
wie ein Schiff,
das mich trug
durch den tödlichsten Sturm.

- Rilke

littoral

liminal

silence

My child mistress/mother sister/dream
How acceptable all things would be
Were we to live in that land where
The slow and the long, short and the strong
Die in the dance of being less than one another
In a perpetual summer of imageless desire.
Flagellated and forgotten suns
Drink in the step of my azure lost skies
And move to mysterylessness our chemical miseries
Within which the treadling eyes of indefiniteness
Are no more than the tears of the damned.
Take from my heart, a platinum measure
Free of solitude's false grace
And awkward adolescent pleasures.
Here is the furniture
That caresses the dust of the years
And counts the wrinkled set into the brain
On fingers that have made their own doom.
Evil the eyes that look back at us in dreams,
Evil the touch of the deaths that have not loved us
Evil the sorrow which shelters itself from release
And the evils accumulate
Leaving us idle and alone
Though an Eastern splendor,
An Eastern hatred of the idea of loss
Eddies in the river of slime
That has not won us.
Hidden from the waves in still canals
We sit in a small boat that refuses
To set forth.
To satisfy need,
To accommodate our need of forever,
We sit in the boat
And wait for a clearer sky,
A more propitious moment to launch
While thinking of Cortez'
Miraculous slaughter of and victory over
The children of the sun.


'L'invitation au voyage'-Charles Baudelaire — translation Will Schmitz

Well, the clock says it's time to close now
I guess I'd better go now
I'd really like to stay here all night
The cars crawl past all stuffed with eyes
Street lights share their hollow glow
Your brain seems bruised with numb surprise
Still one place to go
Still one place to go

Let me sleep all night in your soul kitchen
Warm my mind near your gentle stove
Turn me out and I'll wander baby
Stumblin' in the neon groves

Well, your fingers weave quick minarets
Speak in secret alphabets
I light another cigarette
Learn to forget, learn to forget
Learn to forget, learn to forget

Let me sleep all night in your soul kitchen
Warm my mind near your gentle stove
Turn me out and I'll wander baby
Stumblin' in the neon groves

Well the clock says it's time to close now
I know I have to go now
I really want to stay here
All night, all night, all night

Soul Kitchen as sung by Patti Smith originally by The Doors

Neon Licht, schimmendes Neon Licht
Und wenn die Nacht anbricht ist diese Stadt aus Licht

Kraftwerk

Enormous enlargements of an object or a fragment give it a personality it never had before, and in this way, it can become a vehicle of entirely new lyric and plastic power.
Fernand Leger

Nous sommes tous de lopins et d'une contexture si informe et diverse,que chaque piece, chaque momant, faict son jeu. Et se trouve autant de difference de nous à autruy.
- Michel de Montaigne, 'Essais'

hommage à Louise

blue negen

blau acht

bleu sept

blue six

blue cinco

blue 4

blue three

blue second layer

blue first state

Blue, songs are like tattoos
You know I've been to sea before
Crown and anchor me
Or let me sail away
Hey blue, here is a song for you
Ink on a pin
Underneath the skin
An empty space to fill in
Well there's so many sinking now
You've got to keep thinking
You can make it through these waves
Acid, booze, and ass
Needles, guns, and grass
Lots of laughs, lots of laughs
Everybody's saying that hells the hippest way to go
Well I don't think so
But I'm gonna take a look around it though
Blue, I love you

Blue, here is a shell for you
Inside you'll hear a sigh
A foggy lullaby
There is your song from me

-Joni Mitchell

twilight zone

The rain is all over, it's only stopped for an hour
And I stop you, and I stop you
When you go too far
And you stop me when I go too far
And it tried to freak me
But I should have known
It's not the twilight zone no, it's not the twilight zone
Yes it's just a party phone, pure honeycomb, honeycomb, honeycomb

You tried to take me in a slow poke draw
Like the cowboy wished
And you got just what you saw
Well, you got what you saw
Didn't you get, didn't you get, didn't you get
So, don't let it freak you
When, when it gets down to the bone
You know it's not the twilight zone, it's not the twilight zone
It's just a party phone, and honeycomb, honeycomb
It's not, it's not the twilight zone
It's just a party phone
Honeycomb, honeycomb, honeycomb, honeycomb

[Spoken:]
It's not, it's not the twilight zone
It's just a party phone

And honeycomb, ya!
You know it's not the twilight zone
It's, it's just a party phone
Honeycomb, honeycomb, honeycomb, honeycomb

You know what it is
Just a party phone, party, phone
Honeycomb, honeycomb, honeycomb, honeycomb
Hmm, hmm, hmm
Honeycomb, honeycomb
Honeycomb

Van Morrison

California

Sitting in a park in Paris, France
Reading the news and it sure looks bad
They won't give peace a chance
That was just a dream some of us had
Still a lot of lands to see
But I wouldn't want to stay here
It's too old and cold and settled in it's ways here
Oh, but California
California I'm coming home
I'm going to see the folks I dig
I'll even kiss a Sunset pig
California I'm coming home

I met a redneck on a Grecian isle
Who did the goat dance very well
He gave me back my smile
But he kept my camera to sell
Oh the rogue, the red red rogue
He cooked good omelettes and stews
And I might have stayed on with him there
But my heart cried out for you, California
Oh California I'm coming home
Oh make me feel good rock'n roll band
I'm your biggest fan
California, I'm coming home

Oh it gets so lonely
When you're walking
And the streets are full of strangers
All the news of home you read
Just gives you the blues
Just gives you the blues

So I bought me a ticket
I caught a plane to Spain
Went to a party down a red dirt road
There were lots of pretty people there
Reading Rolling Stone, reading Vogue
They said, "How long can you hang around?"
I said "a week, maybe two,
Just until my skin turns brown
Then I'm going home to California"
California I'm coming home
Oh will you take me as I am
Strung out on another man
California I'm coming home

Oh it gets so lonely
When you're walking
And the streets are full of strangers
All the news of home you read
More about the war
And the bloody changes
Oh will you take me as l am?
Will you take me as l am?
Will you?

- Joni Mitchell

Fairplay

Fair play to you
Killarney's lakes are so blue
And the architecture I'm taking in with my mind
So fine...

Tell me of Poe
Oscar Wilde and Thoreau
Let your midnight and your daytime turn into love of life
It's a very fine line
But you've got the mind child
To carry on
When it's just about to be
Carried on...

And there's only one meadow's way to go
And you say "Geronimo"
There's only one meadow's way to go
And you say "Geronimo"

A paperback book
As we walk down the street
Fill my mind with tales of mystery, mystery...
And imagination

Forever fair
And I'm touching your hair
I wish we could be dreamers
In this dream, ohhh
Let it dream

And there's only one meadow's way to go
And you say "Geronimo"
And there's only one meadow's way to go
And you say "Geronimo"

Fair play to you
Killarney's lakes are so blue
High-ho silver, tit for tat
And I love you for that
High-ho silver, tit for tat
And I love you for that, love you for that, love you for that
High-ho silver, tit for tat, tit for tat
And I love you for that
High-ho silver, tit for tat, hah!
Yeah, yeah
And I love you for that

And theres only one meadow's way to go
And I, and I say "Geronimo"
And there's only one meadow's way to go
And we say "Geronimo"
Geronimo
And there's only one meadow's way to go
And we say Geronimo
And there's only one meadow's way to go
And we say Geronimo

from "Veedon Fleece' - Van Morrison

'...in the offing the sea and sky were welded together without a joint...'
-Joseph Conrad 'Heart of Darkness'

terra incognita

There are vast realms of consciousness still undreamed of
vast ranges of experience, like the humming of unseen harps,
we know nothing of, within us.

Oh when man has escaped from the barbed-wire entanglement
of his own ideas and his own mechanical devices
there is a marvellous rich world of contact and sheer fluid beauty
and fearless face-to-face awareness of now-naked life
and me, and you, and other men and women
and grapes, and ghouls, and ghosts and green moonlight
and ruddy-orange limbs stirring the limbo
of the unknown air, and eyes so soft
softer than the space between the stars.
And all things, and nothing, and being and not-being
alternately palpitate,
when at last we escape the barbed-wire enclosure
of Know-Thyself, knowing we can never know,
we can but touch, and wonder, and ponder, and make our effort
and dangle in a last fastidious fine delight
as the fuchsia does, dangling her reckless drop
of purple after so much putting forth
and slow mounting marvel of a little tree.

- D H Lawrence

'...-in-the-world'

in the white room

pink palms

too much Ian

instant recognition - second state

instant recognition

inscribing a line

invisible

circa 1960