Ivy in me, or as I lock on to

I dance on your walls gracefully.

Night and day, day and night.

There I live. There I'll die.

That's what I mean when I speak about devotion.

Out of curiosity

Let's talk about the horse who lives on your shelf near the window.

How did you persuade him to grow up and get old in that poky corner of your house?

I'm curious about it.

For sure you please him with the best straw, and you polish him every day with Swiss products early in the morning, when everyone sleeps and none can see.

Certainly he runs away from the shelf anytime he needs to stretch his legs but, you can swear to it, he'll be back at lightning speed because he's very diligent, I can tell that for sure and I know what I'm about.

He's a very beautiful horse indeed. Everyone will agree.

I love over all the way he keeps his ears so straight and the sunny expression of the muzzle.

Furthermore I admire the fact that he's not scared by the thunders or the bogeyman.

Probably to stand still he counts endless numbers. How far could he be arrived? 2395836386488993933030 or more? 

I will whisper you something in the ear: your horse is precious for you, but he's valuable also for the pedestrian who curiously peeks into your window.

A horse on the shelf near the windowpane is take-away happiness for the world.

Tuesday's rest for tired souls

To restore your bleary soul on Tuesday you need a porch and a hammock.

If you have only the porch, you'll need to buy a hammock. Preferably a colorful one.

You can buy a hammock made with long long shoe laces intersected, or rent out the hammock that I weaved this night, silently like a spider, in the upper corner of the wall. It's made with strings of lutes and it plays a beautiful melody if you hang it against the wind.

If you already have a hammock, you are very close to your own happiness. Yessss, sure. But, if you don't have a porch... bad news, you can't build a porch on a day like this in which you need only good rest. You'll have to steal the porch of some of your friends (or better, you can steal the porch of some of your enemies...What better way to pester them on a Tuesday afternoon?).

There you are, oscillating on your hammock, restoring your weary spirit with the sparkling air of the February's porch. You deserve it.

Eskimo folk poetry

In your plumed masks live the spirits of the land.

For every whale captured a new prayer has been recited, an heartfelt thanks has been sent to the sea.

Dance in circle until the night will end and while you'll fall asleep more tales will be told.

Not far away a glacier cracks and a draft comes in under the door to make you shiver. 

(mask from the Arctic Studies Center)

Tangle of nerves, blod vessels and tendons

Moving as less as I can, under a turtle dove colored sky, I keep on masticating.

Before you get lost in the wood

Bad wolf your fur smells of the best moss.

I come close to you in the underbrush while the moon howls in the wild wind.

Here grows the flexible fern and there crops up your densest fear, right next to the parasol mushroom.

In its shadow you can sleep at night and dream backwards.

Bad wolf of burrows and canines, if in the deep of the silent darkness you cease to exist who will close your eyes and caress your motionless wool?

That's would be me.

Or the kiss of a tree.

Find your grammar

Open majestically your mouth and let flow the sparkling language that's inside your pulp: stellar goats and corals will come out. 

There's a party ready to start when the snow stops falling down on the ground and begins to return to the sky, sloooooooowly. 

There's a gust of abscissas waiting to spread out of your joy, impatiently. 

Dance with the red berries and find your grammar of beauty among the bricks of the sidewalk, into the skin of a plastic dinosaur, or on the crown of a thousand-year old oak. 

This's a very big truth and if it lays down it's long at least one kilometer. 

You can measure it, if you don't believe me.

Echos of your peace

Echos of your peace resound in me and I vibrate along. 

The melody that pours out is subtle as the breeze that invites the grains of sand to dance over the seaside, and precious like the first buds that spring will bring and put with precision over each branch.

Listen to the tune of the deepest breath, your very own key. The only note able to let your mind rest and your heart cry. And sing.

This is the snow that I'd like you to listen to

  

Outside the window as inside your heart

you can marry the silence, if you dare.

The wedding present? Is an acorn.

The best men... a red squirrel.

And your love? Light of light // snow of snow.

I promise, it will be endless.

You can expect my telephone call tomorrow

Nature, how can you be so elegant?

Golden hydrangea

Today I've been saved by your graceful beauty