meet me on magic mountain

this month has met me on mani ( hands) , in a unequivical parting of my burden to be hear and heard my my self.

i can only write in poetry to give account’

from marble, to michelangelo, to mare, and more…

lunatica festival creates a demo for me to sing swirling up the mountain where in a medieval castle  liesbeth gruwez dances like clear cutting sheets of metal on white and black satin.  she stings.  pure and piercing eyes presence to a pull.

let us perform with matteo, the actor/dancer, and frank painting us into his canvas. ok. i will sing a song.

marble has a hard on.  so does mechanical cutting of it. soo do the men who pull it, and then there are the sculptors who pierce it;

it is a holy feeling to be squeezed between rock and the sea; carrara to cinque terra and back down the river;

i believe i started this holy battle in this little rocking boat; i have digested so many little marbles , my stomach is full uv holes

and now something is coming up; i fell so deeply down, i made a roller coaster attempt at conciousness; i ate with the goats;

i ate with ghosts; men want to marry me and yet the sheets must be pulled down; we can see there is more road;  there are

giants to meet behind these rocky mountains, there are sea men who have written letters in the sky full upside down it becomes

a sea i fall in again and again.  i find a real diamond underneath the heat.  i have a found a few jewels. i will not put names on it.

on him.  i wont pin him down like that… this luv is to be free like fire sparks it wont burn out; wooooo hoo wood is burning slowly

and i have the formula for the right amount of air and water to keep this happiness, this luv, this esctasy

now.

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