29.11.08
I am slithering up the west side of a waterfall full with birds and pinwheels and flowers. a wise woman hovers on the east side. At first I think she is speaking with the birds and flowers passing by, floating down the slope. then I realize she is speaking to me. I can’t really hear her. I lean forward straining. she too leans forward. she has something important to tell me.
“go slow.”
she says more -- there are more words -- but they all mean the same thing.
“slow down.”
“cuidete”
“calmete”
“poco a poco”
she sees me from across this river of flowers and pinwheels and birds, falling falling falling over a cliff, and she knows everything.
I strain to hear each word as though I will find the key or the final puzzle piece -- but all that echoes in my head is “go slow.”
27.11.08
I am a tree
I’m hiding in the woods in the dark of night waiting. noone can see me for what I am because tonight I’m a tree. I look out into the shadows and see the ghosts and fantasmas flying around. some are fat like beach balls, others whispy at the bottom and bulging at the top. others wear capes and have no shape at all -- they are air itself. the smell me but don’t see me and after a minute of consideration they decide to live and let live and they go about their ghostly things. I am waiting for daylight so I can leave my tree for other horizons. I will roll myself up in a small ball, roll down the trunk and come out the bottom of the tree.
25.11.08
mi dia del nombre y hay una chica sin cabeza. ella esta corriendo por el fondo -- a playas, arena suave y caliente. se fue de otra mujer, pero ella la vieja caminando lento, lento.
como siempre hay arboles - un bosque denso y alto. el bosque esta atras -- y las mujeres mueven adelante. no hay nada enfrente de ellas, ni un arbol, ni un mar, solo una linea recta abajo de sus pies.
I am slithering up the west side of a waterfall full with birds and pinwheels and flowers. a wise woman hovers on the east side. At first I think she is speaking with the birds and flowers passing by, floating down the slope. then I realize she is speaking to me. I can’t really hear her. I lean forward straining. she too leans forward. she has something important to tell me.
she sees me from across this river of flowers and pinwheels and birds, falling falling falling over a cliff, and she knows everything. 
