lundi 27 juin 2011

Aube au-dessus de Saint-Lambert




Dawn over Saint Lambert Church

L'aube de Noël de ma fenêtre au 15em de Paris, où je suis passée trois mois en 2007. La musique est Debussy joue Debussy (piano roll), La cathédrale engloutie.

Christmas dawn from my window in the 15th arrondissement of Paris, where i passed three months in 2007. The music is Debussy plays Debussy (piano roll), The Sunken Cathedral.

dimanche 26 juin 2011

What It Took


written for Amy, Teresa, Shell and Margaret on Feb 21, 1999, my forty-second
birthday and one year after our women's sexual healing group

What it took
was a flag at half-mast
What it took
was a houseful of clues
What it took
was the courage to listen
What it took
was a bottomless blues

The door to my attic
has come unlatched
Its trunks are filled
with outgrown clothes
The glass figurine
smashes to the floor
Its fragments glisten
like precious jewels

All that I am
I have been
And what I've seen
made movies
I watch the parting shots
and give credit
where credit is due:
Some to me, some to you

I celebrate my life again
remember friends and innocents
and wash the demons
from my eyes
and raise the flag
to its full height
and fly, my dear ones
overhead

Blue Skies


Firs against an Olympus sky

Oriane blue
just this side
of obsidian

One song breaks through
and follows a chorus
of warbling

Apollo blue
the scalding white
of noontide

Winged angels
propagate madly
in the heat

Olympus blue
streaked with
cirrus

Old firs
swing wildly
in the firmament

Poseidon blue
a slow blanket
transports the stars

Venus awakens
and sings love songs
to Mars


Wild birds in an Apollo sky
video

mardi 21 juin 2011

When will the ME epidemic be taken seriously?

This is Mindy Keitel's powerful testimony about the effect of 30 years of bogus studies on ME-CFS, while we are left to die in terrible suffering. Evidence like this is given year after year at the annual CFSAC meeting in Washington, DC, and the ME patient community has had enough; they are beginning to ACT-UP as never before, although we have no Hollywood stars advocating for us. As for this little sparrow, I have had enough after 16 years of pain and a serious flu-like illness which has left me housebound, isolated and in ever-worsening condition.



Mindy's blog "CFS Central" with other important testimony can be found here: http://www.cfscentral.com/2011/05/shoah-testimony.html.

As well, Dr. Jamie Deckoff-Jones' blog "X-Rx" is telling the truth about the bogus approaches to ME research and the important work of the Whittemore Peterson Institute in Nevada on human gammaretroviruses: http://treatingxmrv.blogspot.com/.

lundi 20 juin 2011

toxic mantras


"somatoform disorder"

the very words chill the heart
like an abusive priest crying
"suffer the little children
to come unto me"
a mantra so painful
even your flaming body
grows hotter
flushes with ice
and boiling water
lifts you from the chair
you've been captive in
for twenty years
as you throw yourself
at the marauder
the bankrupt siren
singing to solomon
and nothing can stop
the rage you feel
as you tumble to the floor
flailing your aching arms
standing on useless knees
and weeping icicles
hard and sharp
from years of slaughter
at the hands of doctors
wagging their tongues
of disbelief
proffering toxic mantras
into waiting mouths
into dimpled brain cells
as adrenal glands contract
and the natural matter
of surety and survival
is stolen from you

dimanche 19 juin 2011

je m'appartiens

for Pranesh
i was crying for a lost star
far flung, burnt out
yet able to leave its mark
on my heart of hearts

i was crying for past lives
old alibis
wished-for revival
lit up in blindness

the area of my brain
where i demand
ontological questions that
are not particularly useful

and suddenly here you are
a living star
who sheds living light
on articles of love

and the tears
like a floodgate
burst forth
until…

i am free of my sadness
and back amongst the living
where most of the time
dear one, i belong

mardi 7 juin 2011

off the straight and narrow




i need to take a long vacation
from this bodily angst,
sit on top of a hill and meditate
like in the old days,
without thoughts about hunger or thirst
or what time it is
or what pills to take
or what i did then
or what was done to me.

i want to feel wind and rain
on naked vulnerability,
to sit absorbed
in a single tangible thing,
my breath in and out,
not the worn out dreams
surrendered in illness
nor where i should go
or how i should get there
but here in this moment
which is the only place i own
yet over which i have no control
nor would i want it
for therein lies my freedom.

there's a path i can take
that was custom-made for me,
the trees and shrubs carved
by wind and dessication,
sand crushed from grand caverns
sifted and gathered and
making this way meandering;
yet i have no fear of losing my way
because the sun rises in the east
and sets in the west,
as does venus with her fierce lovelamp,
and these things do not vacillate.

i put one foot in front of the other
to climb the scraggy path
up to the summit of the dune,
with a symphony of waves
and seagulls gliding in air currents
and hundreds of sanderlings
running frenetically through foam:
and when i sit like that,
brought there by my own two feet,
i feel a sense of unionizing peace,
as one of a gazillion stars in a
heavenly vista that rolls on and on,
eternally evolving,
creating path after path,
reaching one or another resting point
for weary pilgrims.

jeudi 2 juin 2011

Mes Prisons - Alain Bashung


Alain Bashung - Mes prisons by mikibegood


Words: Alain Bashung/Jean Fauque
Music: Alain Bashung

Translation by moineau

Mes prisons sont des modèles
My prisons are models
De sublimes inquiétudes
Of sublime worries
À mes moments perdus
In my lost moments
J’me fais du souci pour le prince
I worry about the prince
J’me fais du souci pour le maton
I worry about the prison guard
J’me fais du souci pour le prince
I worry about the prince
J’me fais du souci pour le maton
I worry about the prison guard

Mes prisons sont des femelles
My prisons are females
À tromper ma vigilance
Mistaking my vigilance
Des fois c’est tendre
Sometimes it's tender
Des fois y'a mutinerie
Sometimes there's mutiny

Rendez-vous sur la lande
Take yourself to the moors
À l'endroit où l’on s’est épris
To the place where one was taken
Les gens sont des légendes
People are legends
Mais leurs âmes prennent le maquis
But their souls go underground
Dans les herbes folles
Into the wild grasses
Tu peux courir
You can run
C’est pas un jeu
It's not a game

Mes prisons s’évanouissent
My prisons fade away
Lorsque ta peau m’appelle
When your skin calls me
À mes moments perdus
In my lost moments
J’me fais du souci pour le prince
I worry about the prince
J’me fais du souci pour le maton
I worry about the prison guard
J’me fais du souci pour le prince
I worry about the prince

Mes prisons sont des ruelles
My prisons are back-alleys
Des cris des rituels
Cries, rituals
Des fois je prie
Sometimes I pray
Des fois j’me réfugie
Sometimes I take refuge

Rendez-vous sur la lande
Take yourself to the moors
Et qu’enfin cesse l’hallali
And when finally death ceases*
Qu’on me presse une orange
Someone will press me an orange
De ma peine je ferai mon lit
From my suffering I will make my bed
Dans les herbes folles
In the wild grasses
Tu peux courir
You can run
Pour des aveux
To confession
Non-lieu, non-lieu
Case dismissed, case dismissed 

* hallali - the sound of a hunting horn when there is a kill