The Night BookThe Night Bookart, poetry, painting, literature, love, lust, night, dream, desire, body, sex, death, surrealism, eros, duende, humanism Articles
Geryon's Master Of Always - For Stefan Zweig (1881-1942)
2007-05-25 19:35:00 We only ever question what is good for us, but never what is bad...Have you noticed:the luckiest people never once blame luck,and the beautifulcall beautya curse,again and again...It's not the high that kills you,it is the next morning...Loneliness of mirrorsis the detail that kills...Sometimes the longing for a body,any body,known,unknown,friend, enemy, lover,is too much,too much to bear,beneath the frailtyof skin...When the child is happy, everything she does, she wishes she could do twice...Me?I admit, I never had the same imagination with others, even as a child... Once you?ve both decided, spoken or unspoken,you?ll never agree on the past, you?ve already made your maps of the future...Always last to go to bed. Always last to fall asleep,Not until the house is quiet,and the boys are tucked in.First love, first lust:Not until it's too latedo you finally realizethat the only way to discover your body is with the hands of another...?And life loves on??Francis Bacon: "...realism... More About: Master , Mast , Aster
Gone To Espana...
2007-05-25 19:31:00 ...to wander aimlessly in search of the Duende that ran away from me when I was nine... More About: Espana , Span
Endless Gulf Disco - Winter, 2003
2007-05-22 21:55:00 .flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } Endless Gulf Disc o - Winter , 2003, originally uploaded by levari. More About: Less
Moments My Generations (Rilke)
2007-05-17 00:49:00 The entire citySaw him off,If onlyIn his mind.It was allHot air balloons,Multi-colored Ticker tape Falling from the sky,And golden gilded balconies Filled to standing room only With the elbowing elated.The streets were lined with Towering, blow up icons,And money pinned by Underweight pimps To effigies of blown glass.There were piles of books And, of course, Fire,Always fire.A hand turns this dial...I wakeAnd she sleeps dyingThrough her nose,Hogging the bedAll the while.Again and againWe find our waysTo hideFrom everyone,Camouflaged onlyBy wooden floorboards.Rivers of our Unborn childrenEscape usEach morning, Trying so desperatelyTo reclaim lost timeAnd falling.We are planted Permanently here,For now,But will never admitTo thisCrimeOfRoots and loam and water.A raised cup for the Dead,Lost,Forgotten,If they remember to readThe sections of the mapThat hold The living To nothing.When I couldn?t sleepMy grandfatherTold meStoriesWith no point;How, in the end,The MongolsFinally retreatedT... More About: Genera , Moments , My Generation , Gene , Generation
Jeff's Garden - 11/05
2007-05-15 00:47:00 .flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } Jeff 's Garde n - 11/05, originally uploaded by levari. More About: Arden
Monkeys (Spring, 84')
2007-05-11 21:51:00 John Swort wanted to be a monkey. He checked out every book there was about monkeys from the library. He knew every species, what continent they lived on and the food each liked to eat. His obsession became so intense, after a few months, he could no longer control himself. He'd suddenly leap up on a desk, grab his armpits, run this way and that, while making his idea of screeching monkey sounds. He'd drink a gallon of water and let out loud belches, spitting the biley backwash on anyone and everyone around him. During recess he'd climb to the top of the swings and hang upside down for forty five minutes like it was nothing at all. Everyone was scared of him. John Swort once saw a bee during reading class and sprang to his feet grabbing a dictionary from off the teacher's desk. Before she could stop him, he swung, trying to flatten the bee, but he missed and smashed through a window cutting up his arms and hands bad, his blood gushing all over the floor. The next year ... More About: Spring , Keys , Monkeys
Swingset (Autumn, 83')
2007-05-10 21:41:00 In the Autum n of fourth grade, just after Halloween, Chris Baxter's father showed up during recess and tried to kidnap him while we were playing soccer on the concrete with a half inflated volleyball. He would have gotten Chris Baxter into the back seat of his powder blue Chevy, but Ms. Raguel stood in his father's way even though Mr. Baxter towered over her with his mustache and denim jacket, and cursed at her, every name in the book, without any fear he'd be punished. But no matter what Mr. Baxter threatened, Ms. Raguel stood her ground in front of the truck and wouldn't let them leave. Chris Baxter didn't say anything the whole time. In his father's hands his body looked like one of those faceless sock puppets we made in arts and crafts.The police finally arrived with sirens blaring, screeching right up to the swingset. They dragged Mr. Baxter away in hand cuffs while he screamed over and over, "He's my son! He's my son!" They finally got him into the back seat. ... More About: Wing , Swing , Wings
Obedient Rebellion
2007-05-09 23:42:00 ...footprints disappear almost as quickly as they are made...Los Angeles - 4/06 More About: Bell , Obed , Rebellion
Bodies Anymore
2007-05-05 10:14:00 The fish dancedOn our stomachsAll night long.Dawn sounds:Haitian French mixed with scattered English,Distant doors slamming then opening again,A loud knock repeating four times I don't answer,Hallway whispers about what to do...Silence--Then the inevitable, murderousScreaming from somewhere else,Somewhere betweenThe wallsAnd The Streets.Is it a cat cryingOr a womanMasturbatingOver and over again?Then, like a forgotten faucetFinally turned off,Voice stops.There's no one to ask becauseSheDidn't hear it,And I knowI'll be afraidTo tell herLaterAs I followHerThrough the streets;She dressed in her whiteSun dress,HatAnd cell phone,As the men,The men, Always stare.My pride.My hate.And we'll pretend to ignore the gazes.Talk of Dim SumAt 10 a.m.In the July heat.Either way, I tell myself,At least this is not allMachinery,And this rich man'sWhite on whiteRoom,We have somehowBorrowed from chanceFor the last two days,Would not be betterIf it were anywhereBut here.So I lie in this bedScribbl... More About: More , Bodies , Dies , Bodie
Leopard Claws Out Of Mouth
2007-05-02 22:43:00 So many friendsand so few minutes,all of us so tired,why spend these moments?And yetwhen we come to youyou alwaysmake sure there are chocolateson every table,on every chair.And as we look at you,as we always do,for that is their obligation,and mine,You say what you must say,you do what you must do,and twirl,forever hiding.Wewill never knowwho did this. Los Angeles 2/20/07 More About: Mouth , Leopard
Self Portrait - Summer, 2003
2007-05-01 09:53:00 .flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } Self Portrait - Summer , 2003, originally uploaded by levari. More About: Self Portrait , TRAI
Formula 4 Animals
Found On Napkins
past = ration...
2007-04-29 23:19:00 Formula 4 Animals Found On Napkinspast = rationalizationfuture = speculationjust the momentno more,no lessHollywood, CA - 4/28/07 More About: Formula , Past , Form
A Primate's Last Sigh (revisited, revised)
2007-04-28 10:28:00 Playground of pleasure you never remember visiting yet excavated, again and again,?despite considerable will?and inconsiderate willingness.?Receipts from guest house camouflage,and trails of bedrooms' lingering perfume, ?openly and defiantly recite the lettering ?for you.?Of all the things you have known and mostly not,?the all but silent taste of forgotten generations ?pleases you most;?but, somehow, the echo still finds a way to inflictwith the silenceof corner storeneedles.?Language is seductive,?and so deceitful,?for it no longer sketches with blood:?long ago it bowed to the mercy salesman with their electronic ink, ?held together by no morethan dried up, school boy paste.?Of all the things you have known and mostly not...?Of all the places you have journeyed and will never go...?Simple dishonesty?still?cuts?the ?deepest?pathmarkingmemorymorethantimeeve rcould.?Like the banished child staring through the fence.?Like caressing night staring through the window.?Like sleepless dawn... More About: Mate , Vise , Visi , Visit , Prima
Joanne's NYC
2007-04-24 05:13:00 Outside the apartment,On the street below,You could still hear her voice:"You don't want me,You want the Whole World,In one sentence..."New York City - 9/21/01 More About: Anne , Joanne , Joan
Poet Laureate Of The Blogosphere 2007
2007-04-23 02:14:00 Dear All,It's been brought to my attention that I've somehow been nominated as the "2007 Poet Laureate of The Blogosphere ." I'm truly honored just to be counted among these other fine poets, and I am as surprised as I am humbled to receive this news. If you'd like to vote for me or any of the other nominated poets, cut and paste the following address into your url:http://www.musecrafters.com/bloggingp oet/208/2007+Poet+Laureate+Of+The+Blogosp here+Voting+Begins.htmlBest,Levari More About: Here , Logo , Logos
The Sound That The Heart Breaks
2007-04-19 09:59:00 As we drift throughThe yearsOf our maybe...Wake up next to herSuddenly with a title:"the older man."It's like the first time I ever saw A priest smoke,No guilt.Those who make art and those who sell it.Those who want nothing to do with it,But talk about babiesAnd taxesOn real estateInvestments.Not very smart,How many Business opportunitiesHave I passed upBecause I'd ratherTry andSpeak with the voice of the dead,OrOf the intimacy of animals When they wash each other?I might be quite boring,But at least I knowThat children Almost always Make love With their Make-pretend Friends...It's not the eyes,Or the lips,Or the hands:You can tell people, Their years and moments,By their shoulders. You can read shouldersFaster than any other partOf the body.There once Was a boy Who mated With a butterfly, I swear it.It happened in the woods behind his house.Again and again,No one ever knewThe beautiful depravityThat he lived.Returning homeHe was asked where he was."Smoking like a priest,"he wou... More About: Sound , Heart , Breaks , Brea
The Dreamer - Spring, 2003
2007-04-17 10:15:00 .flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } The Dream er - Spring , 2003, originally uploaded by levari. More About: Ring , The Dream , The D
Portrait of the U.S. of A. - 11/02
2007-04-16 10:18:00 .flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } Portrait of the U.S. of A. - 11/02, originally uploaded by levari. More About: The U , TRAI
The Mystery Of The Plastic
2007-04-15 12:20:00 In my hotel room at 6:54 a.m. I'm buck naked and sick, fighting with the busted curtain and losing, trying to figure out how to keep the sun out, and that?s when I get caught staring out the window?There's nothing particularly interesting about the view, I'm just staring at the long since deserted cityscape, at the alleys, the trash strewn gutters, and the highway running north and south in the far distance. I can see a couple cars traversing the back streets at this early hour. They?re all busted up and rusted up sedans driving real slow like they might stop at any moment, like they?re there with a purpose. I wonder what the purpose could possibly be at this hour in this heat, imagine a couple reasons, but they all seem to be inspired by the miasma of B movies I?ve been watching all night long on basic cable. Then I notice it: this city has some strange, inexplicable fascination with plastic. From my window I can see that there are huge wads of it attached to every other bu... More About: Mystery , Plastic , Myst
The Song Of Concrete
2007-04-14 07:09:00 You lie in bedlisteningto the soundsof the children's gamessuddenly erupting.You hearthe screams and shouts,bouncing balls,teacher's whistles,even a fist fight,until,moments later,they are separated,the gawking crowd drivento their opposingsides.You sometimes thinkyou can hearinvincible friendshipsbeing born,master escape plansbeing laid,the most delicatealliances sealed,then, just as quickly,broken.Fast footsteps...And you know the boys are chasingthe girls,(wanting to ownall their mysteries,once and for all.)Fast footsteps...and you knowthe girls are chasingthe boys,(wanting to tameall their violence,once and for all.)Each and every morningyou wake to the soundsof this small schoolyardacross the street.It's just one of hundredsin this city,one of millionsin this world:Black top,brown ball,brick wall;for weeks now,every morning,upon waking,there is that single moment between sleep and dreamwhen you lift the curtain,the light pours in,and you believeyou knowthem allagain:the unen... More About: Song , Concrete
"Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt," or Rest In Peace, Mr. Vonnegu
2007-04-12 09:15:00 You gave so much,made so muchof the tragic operathat was the 20th Century."Poo-Tee-Weet!"Your little bird once sang."Poo-Tee-Weet?"Your little bird once asked. You are finealee free of your memor..."Poo-Tee-Weet!"Kurt VonnegutNovember 11, 1922 ? April 11, 2007 More About: Peace , Rest In Peace , Hurt , Beautiful , Everything
L.L. Sleeps - 4/06
2007-04-08 12:24:00 .flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } L.L. Sleep s, originally uploaded by levari.
Impermanent Graffiti (For M)
2007-04-05 03:50:00 Your restlessnessIs the only thingEndlessAbout you.Your spinningDizzinessSlidingTowards and backIn desperationFor somethingSometimesAlways somethingThat their nothingTries to destroyWithout ever touching.They hateThey hateBut they call itHelp?Your youThat won?t ever Be contained By youAs you danceOn the rocksFearlessAnd pretendTo paint The horizonWith your Index finger.Pointed, purposeful FleshGliding throughSpaceImpermanent Graffiti you call it,With no thoughtThat even nowThey are watchingyou.They hate,They hate,But they Call itLove?Your sleep,Your bed,Your theories,Your head,Your knowingBut you don?t knowCan?t ever knowWhat you know?The closenessThe distanceThe gait of yourWalk to nowhereIn particular.Once you drifted out to seaEffortlesslyOnly to be rescuedAt 2:13 a.m.Against your will.How is it you alwaysHave so muchTo do?Your only fault:That you neverRealized thatyou breatheMore in spacesBetweenThen in the linesOf their form,And nowyou passThrough these Useless handsThen disappe... More About: Erma , Perm , Permanent
Boudica - Spring, 2003
2007-04-04 01:37:00 .flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } Boudica - Spring , 2003, originally uploaded by levari. More About: Ring
Night Figures (Druids for Boudica) - 12/02
2007-04-03 04:40:00 .flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } Night Figure s (Druids, Boudicca) - 12/02, originally uploaded by levari.
Another Love Letter...
2007-03-31 12:48:00 ...to my other home, my first home, the city of Philadelphia. This one from the London Financial Times. A banner week for my two cities...http://www.ft.com/cms/s/ef316ea2 -dde0-11db-afa7-000b5df10621.html More About: Love , Other , Letter , Love Letter , Another
The Assassin's Joy (Revised)
2007-03-29 18:21:00 How did it always get so lateso early?I remember:she slept nightless,dreamedof flyingfirst class,I heard her say.You never realizedhow fast you were goinguntilbodiesfellaway.We were oncethe only witnessto Rome.Elementsher body,her bodya part of mine,apart from mine...And theDeja vuas I keptsearchingfor youin this circleof surrender.Catching you was like matingwith a butterfly,and you knewno time. Howdid you convincethemthat yourgazewas the gazeof noother?Firebrandfilled with death...And all the deaththat comeswith fighting offdeaththat I could neverknow.Still in the process of becomingthis late nightand straight onuntil morning,grateful,as l wasalways ableto come to the tablestill standing.When you werelocked awayin your white walledroomI could not helpbut try to rescueyouevenwhen you no longer wanted me.AndAll of this,this eternalceremonial mess,is nothingbut the laughterof the assassin'sjoy. Los Angeles - 3/22/07 More About: Vise , The A , Assassin
The Last Words Game
More articles from this author:2007-03-29 16:26:00 "Either that wallpaper goes or I go."-Oscar Wilde"I'm losing."-Frank Sinatra"Get those fucking nuns away from me."-Frank O'hara"I spent my whole life working. Why?"-Louise Andreas-Salome"Waiting are they? Waiting are they? Well let em' wait."-Ethan Allen"Pardon me, Monsieur."-Marie Antoinette"That guy's got to stop...He'll see us."-James Dean"I know you have come to kill me. Shoot, coward. You are only going to kill a man."-Che Guevara"How were the circus receipts in Madison Square Garden?"-P.T. Barnum"Its been a long time since I've had champagne."-Checkhov"Dying? Dying is easy. Comedy, now that's hard."-Edmund Gwenn"Don't turn out the light. I am afraid to go home in the dark."-O. HenryPriest's Question: "Do you renounce Satan?"Answer: "Now, now, my good man, this is no time for making enemies."-Voltaire"I spent my whole life working. Why?"-Louise Andreas-Salome"I do not have to forgive my enemies. I had them all shot."-General Ramon Maria Narvaez"This is funny.... More About: Word , Words , Last , Game , The Last Word 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 |
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